Iron Sharpens Iron
by Asutex
Summary: The Commander had paused her efforts to track down Saren in order to take out several geth outposts. Whenever she went on the move again, Miranda would know about it. After all, Shepard was her assignment.
1. The Krogan

_"...early years spent in the slums of Hito. Various instances of injuries occurring [Refer to Pre-Service Medical Reports P3-FSS, P12-FSS, P5-FSS, and P21-FSS]. Associated with Blood Pack recruiters. Age of six years, departed aboard Krogan cruiser, _The Jarrod_. Taught by the ranks of Krogan mercenaries until eighteen. Enlisted in the Alliance military. End of Pre-Service Background Report." _The feminine synthesized voice dropped away abruptly as the audio ended. Slight fingers pressed the appropriate commands to back-up the data to two separate external networks as was demanded by protocol and then the file shut down on the data pad, ready to be viewed again when necessary.

Brushing long black hair from where it obscured her vision, she activated the the holo-journal of a mentor. The screen flashed to life and then a man's torso appeared before her. His brown eyes were looking directly through her as he spoke is a deep, smooth voice that commanded the attention of those around him.

_"Session E0078. Technical Skills Evaluation. Category: Artificial Intelligence Hacking. Administrator: Staff Commander Simon MacArthur, Engineering Elitist. Evaluated Subject Name: Classified. Evaluated Subject Identification Code is E15-476-6." _A slight pause as the man consulted something out of view. "_The following are the examined areas and results of E15-476-6, from hereafter called Coeus. Security Infiltration: Level 5. Coeus demonstrated great improvement from previous testing in this area. No further observations in this area. Protocol Reconfiguration: Level 5. No further observations in this area. Remote Reconfiguration: Level 4. Coeus faltered at the start of examination and, in combat, would have endangered team. No further observations in this area. Basic Bypassing: Level 5. No further observations..."_

The journal entry continued on for several minutes, listing areas of weakness and areas of strength of the nineteen-year old. After enlisting into the Alliance military, a special interest had been taken by Staff Commander MacArthur. He had been so curious about her potential he trained her for four years, ten hours a day, every day. Coeus had not failed to exceed expectations. While it was actually fairly interesting to hear about the results and comments about the subject, there was one aspect that Miranda was most interested in.

There were a couple of fairly aged data pads. All of them contained day-to-day activites of a single krogan. However, some of the entries detailed rare information of a human being brought up by a krogan. The individual in question, Urdnot Balor, had been a bit of an odd one to begin with, but the act of taking a young human to raise for himself was extraordinarily strange; only recorded to have occurred two times before. The Staff Commander's journal was carefully stored away before the Cerberus Operative started on the krogan's recordings. The massive maroon head and upper body of the being rose before her, static interfering every now and again.

"_Log 7 Entry 52. _The Jarrod _has been stationed for sometime on Hito, Ismar Frontier, Faia System. Blue Suns tried to chase Blood Pack off. They're dead now. Vorcha gun missing, had to issue a new one." _It was brief. Krogan generally weren't known for their elaborate descriptive skills and storytelling.

"_Log 7 Entry 55. Lost vorcha gun retrieved. Unexpected casualty. New cargo to arrive onboard momentarily."_

"_Log 7_ _Entry 57. New cargo unexpectedly fierce for age and species. Interesting._"

"_Log 7 Entry 64. Cargo's got a quad for such a small thing. Threatened several vorcha. Nearly got herself killed._"

"_Log 7 Entry 88. Decided to bring cargo -- Ta'xet -- to Tuchanka. Possibly valuable asset. She has demonstrated keen interest in the engineers. Will be specialized in that area._"

"_Log 14 Entry 24. Ta'xet has reached her thirteenth year. Training over last seven years has gone smoothly and quickly. Very adaptive. Worthy of being full Urdnot. Must find way for her to go through the Rite of Passage._"

"_Log 14 Entry 30_. _Decimated Klixen that attacked. Ta'xet proved herself invaluable by providing fast, reliable repairs to damaged equipment."_

_"Log 15 Entry 12. I, Urdnot Balor, shall undergo the Rite of Guardians. My Krantt will not be able to join me through this test. If I die, Ta'xet will be sentenced to be killed and fed to the varren. I will not die."_

_"Log 15 Entry 88._" The new voice caught the woman's attention and she refocused her attention on the small figure. A teenager -- fourteen-years of age -- flicked in the hologram recording, looking a tad uncertain. "_I have been allowed to be part of the clan only in name, Urdnot Ta'xet. Balor says some krogan are restless. They want me to go to a human colony._"

Then Balor returned for the next recording. "_Log 15 Entry 100. It has been decided. Urdnot Ta'xet will leave Tuchanka when she reaches her eighteenth year. The clan demands it of her and so she will do it._"

After that point the entries detailing the subject of interest dropped off dramatically, making little mention of the girl in any other recordings. Miranda shifted through to find the last pair of entries involving the girl. "_Log 18 Entry 203. Ta'xet's life on Tuchanka will soon end and she will be sent to her planet of origin."_

And then Ta'xet appeared for the final entry. She had matured noticeably. The young woman was tall and slender, equipped with heavy armor with a heavy pistol and sniper rifle strapped to her back. "_Log 19 Entry 24_._ In a few minutes, I am to start off to Hito. Appropriately, I am going with the crew of _theJarrod. _The moment_ _I land... I'm going to head to the nearest Alliance recruiter and enlist. A battle's a battle. I'll take what I can get. And I'll go by my former name... The one I had back on Hito before I was with the krogan. So, I'll be Shepard. Savannah Shepard._"

Miranda considered what she had heard, gazing at the frozen image of the young woman. Her green eyes stared boldly through the operative, unseeing, yet challenging all the same. In the four years that had passed since the last recording she did, the girl seemed to have matured in every way. She held the demeanor that would make any krogan proud: harsh, stand-offish, defiant. What she lacked in physical size, she made up for with a sheer, demanding presence. It would take a little while for the ship to get back to Hito to drop off their almost-clanmate. Within an hour of landing, Savannah Shepard kept true to her word and enlisted the moment she located the recruiter. From there, her training had been diligently logged by her instructors in holographic journals and in structured notes kept in data pads.

She had to marvel a bit at the woman for her achievements since enlisting. Commander Shepard had been hailed as the hero of Eden Prime. Even more impressively, the woman had been declared the first human Spectre. At the moment, the Commander had, according to Alliance and Cerberus intelligence, temporarily paused her efforts to track down Saren in order to take out several geth outposts. Whenever she went on the move again, Miranda would know about it. After all, Shepard was her assignment. The Illusive Man suspected that they would need her assistance in the future, so he set Miranda to work finding everything there was to know about the Alliance soldier.

"Miranda?"

Reflexively, she closed down the data pad before lifting her eyes the face the owner of that familiar voice.

"What do you need, Jacob?" The operative folded her hands on her desk neatly.

After a moment's pause, the man stepped forward and stated his business, "We've been designated to go check up on a research facility with Reynolds. The whole building's gone dark." He interacted with his omni-tool, pulling up the specifics of the assignment. "Voyager Cluster, Yangtze System, Planet Binthu. We're checking out Achilles-3 while the other teams take Achilles-1 and Achilles-2. We're supposed to go in low and quiet. The Illusive Man has authorized lethal force, but I doubt we'll get the chance to shoot our guns. Probably just some scientists trying to do things their way without us getting in their way."

Achilles project? Miranda really wasn't sure what that project entailed. While she had seen briefings about it, most of the information was murky and vague. Obviously something that most Cerberus agents weren't supposed to know about. Probably for a good reason. She gave a wry smile at Jacob's theory before she stood and started out of the office.

"Let's ship out and put them in their place."


	2. The Unexpected

**Author's Note time: **Thank you so much, everyone, for adding Iron to your story alerts and favorites, for adding me to your author alerts and special thanks to the kind Lord Archeron for leaving the first review. To all potential reviewers, if you do review, I will do my best to address every one of you. I love reviews! On that note, **Lord Archeron**, I can't say that I've really decided about her Paragon/Renegade alignment. I'm sort of just going with the flow as I write and whatever most fits her personality is what she does (I have a character biography that I've written up that I consult as I write).

* * *

"Jupiter in position at Achilles-3." Reynolds' quiet voice was the only thing that disturbed the silence. Miranda held her pistol tightly, raised slightly in preparation to immediately respond to any hostility that might greet them. Jacob had positioned himself similarly and turned his helmeted head in her direction, waiting for Reynolds to give the signal.

_'Ganymede in position at Achilles-2._'

'_Callisto in position at Achilles-1.'_

_"_Jupiter entering. _Idem_, Ganymede?"

'_Semper idem, Jupiter.'_

"_Idem_, Callisto?"

'_Semper idem, Jupiter._'

The communications line went quiet as the teams moved in. Reynolds motioned for Miranda and Jacob to flank him before tapping into the entryway's security system with his omni-tool. A few moments of hacking was rewarded with the sudden retreat of the door as it slid aside to allow them access. Reynolds started forward into the brightly lit room, his assault rifle carefully held at the ready.

"All clear."

All three slowly lowered their weapons, but Miranda kept a tight grip on her pistol. She didn't want to be lured into a false sense of security just to end up being ambushed. Her eyes fell to several white boxes. The beginnings of dust had started to coat the mechs; that fact bothered her.

"The LOKI mechs haven't been activated for a while. If something happened, they either didn't see them as a threat or everyone was overrun before they could even call on the mechs." Neither scenario was preferred over the other. Either way she looked at it, if there had been hostile beings, they managed to evade all of the security. The alarms weren't blaring, and -- she took a moment to tap into the security logs -- they showed absolutely no sign of having been triggered recently.

"According to records, no one has come in or out of this facility for a week." Jacob sounded a bit confused as he continued reading the information from his omni-tool display, "Why wasn't a team called in after the first day?"

"Doesn't matter now. Both of you take the other room, I'll go to this one." Reynolds positioned himself a door on the far right side of the room. Then he spoke softly into the communications line again, "Ganymede, report."

'_Nothing telling, Jupiter. LOKI were activated four days ago, according to report. There were also two FENRIS that were supposed to be in here, but something did a number on them. Torn into scrap parts. Update complete. Update request, Jupiter.'_

_"_Granted_. _More activity than we've seen here, Ganymede. LOKI weren't even activated, but there's been no activity for at least a week. Update complete. I'll contact you when we have more information. Callisto, report."

Radio silence.

"Callisto, report."

Failure to respond when ordered never ended up well. Miranda tightened her grip on her weapon, raising it a bit more. Reynolds' backed away from the door that he had assigned himself to, his assault rifle resting a bit higher in his hands as the tension rose. If the leader of the squad, Callisto-1, didn't report back soon, it would indicate a serious problem.

'_...Jamming transmitter offline, Jupiter. Communications back online. Repeat request?'_

_"_Report, Callisto." If Reynolds was the least bit relieved, he didn't allow it to show in his voice.

'_Nothing to report. Everything seems to be normal here. It's like nothing is wrong. The only problem is there's been absolutely no activity for two days. No one's gone in or out of the labs, no one's been in the mess. Hell, no one has even been in the bathroom. End report.'_

"Jupiter proceeding on. Keep in touch."

Jacob was turned toward Reynolds, watching him carefully. On the opposite side of the room, the man counted down by holding up three fingers to begin with. The ring finger curled downwards first. A moment later, his middle finger fell to join the other digits. Miranda's muscles tensed up involuntarily as she waited for the signal from Jacob. Finally, his index finger dropped out of sight. Jacob lifted his hand swiftly, touching his index finger to the pad of his thumb while leaving the other three digits extended upward.

Miranda opened the door and entered quietly, body turned towards the left side of the room and pistol raised. While she couldn't see with her back to him, she knew that her companion was covering the other side. However, caution had been unnecessary, it turned out, because the room contained nothing but terminals.

Jacob departed from the room to give the 'all clear' to Reynolds. Miranda, on the other hand, had noticed flurried activity on one of the screens. In the far right corner of the room, one of the terminals was flashing. After a fleeting second of consideration, she headed over to the point of interest.

"Jupiter-1," Miranda leaned forward and urgently activated the secure local communications link, "Requesting permission to recover data."

'_...Granted. Begin recovery._'

Miranda hurriedly began entering commands into the system. Files were vanishing faster than she could bypass the data wipe protocol that had been activated. The entire display suddenly went blank. Maybe she had simply been too late to do anything. Maybe she had hit a security protocol in place to shut down everything if someone tried to hack their way in. There were many scenarios that could have happened. Her speculation was discarded, however, as the screen flashed to life once more and greeted her in a cool synthesized voice.

'_Welcome, Cerberus Operative, Doctor Giana Rappaccini, L10 Security Clearance, Military Division.'_

"Recovery successful, Jupiter-1." The report back to her superior was off-handed and done automatically, but she was hardly focused on that. No, her attention was firmly on the data before her.

Before her, several categories had been neatly listed: Data Logs, Diagnostics, Private Personnel Logs, Research. Miranda went down the list of Data Logs. There were several that she found with rather interesting. Those files had something to do with the rachni, an extinct race of sapient arthropods. It was like they had been doing testing with them, but that was obviously impossible. The rachni had been destroyed by the krogan in the Rachni Wars. Unfortunately, those documents had flashing scarlet warnings next to their names.

[CORRUPT] [CORRUPT] [CORRUPT] plagued the list. The good doctor must have made sure that the most sensitive files were done away with first. Be that as it may, she was lucky to have a companion on this mission who happened to be an exceptionally talented engineer. Reynolds was the tech expert of the squad thanks to Cerberus protocol. Every squad must consist of an engineer, a biotic and a dedicated soldier that was skilled with all arms.

"Jupiter-1, requesting assistance."

Within moments, Reynolds entered the room, weapon raised and prepared to fire. When there was no threat to be spotted, the man relaxed a little before moving in his squad mate's direction.

"Problem?" he asked quietly, standing with his arms crossed behind his back.

"The most important files seemed to have been programmed in to be deleted before everything else. Is there any way you could get them back?"

She knew what the answer would be even before he gave one. Reynolds hadn't been recruited to Cerberus without reason. He was a hell of an asset to the organization. As he went to work, it could easily be seen how he rose to the top of his class and graduated two years early.

"Jupiter-2, go with Jupiter-3. Keep assessing the situation. There's no need for all of us to wait here for this to be finished. Keep me informed, understand? Report in regularly and frequently. Now, go." Not once did he face her when he spoke.

"Jupiter-3, let's move on." Miranda beckoned to the young man. He tilted his helmeted head slightly to show compliance before following her from the room.

Jacob moved into the brightly lit corridor first, but Miranda kept close behind. She held her pistol close and at about shoulder height as they moved. Silence reigned over them and was only disturbed by their measured footfalls. Abruptly, the hallway diverged into three possible routes. The walls of each were emblazoned with arrows and neat block letters that spelled out what each hallway led to. The left passage, PERSONNEL. The middle passage, LABS. The right passage, TESTING.

"Let's head down there to see if we can find any bodies." Miranda gestured down the path labeled PERSONNEL. She wasn't naïve enough to suggest that anyone might still be alive if they were in the station. Realistically, she expected to come upon a corpse at any moment. Some fifty feet down the passage, they came upon the first door. Above the entry was the word MESS was printed in the same neat block letters as before. Miranda lightly pressed a hand to the familiar green box settled squarely in front of her. Jacob was ready to fire from where he stood next to her.

The moment the door slid away for them to enter, they stepped inside. There were three round tables in the room, each capable of comfortably seating about ten people. The only reason they didn't have a larger seating area for a staff that was one-hundred fifty people strong was because there were three eight-hour shifts. The neat schedule on the wall gave her that information and also told her that, usually, no more than twenty people were sitting down to eat at any given time and, from what she could guess from the few names littered about the schedule, most people appeared to take their food elsewhere. Most likely, the majority of the personnel either sought sleep or kept themselves entertained through the extranet and through watching vids.

The dark haired woman reached out and lightly brushed a hand against an empty bowl. It was still full of a thick reddish-brown liquid that had congealed upon cooling. She could only assume that it was some kind of soup. A spoon was neatly resting to one side of the dish. There were several other dishes and mugs that were also on the other tables. Nothing had even been spilled or dripped. The area was pristine.

"Jupiter-2 to Jupiter-1."

'_Acknowledged._'

"Jupiter-2 and Jupiter-3 in the mess. Room's clear. It's like everyone just got up and left. There's food and drink still on the table." She glanced towards Jacob. He had gone to check the food stores in the back of the room. When he walked out, he joined the communications link.

"There's no signs of scavenging in the stores."

'_Keep searching. Check in soon.'_

The next room was the same story. And then the next. And the room after that one. For the next half-hour Miranda and Jacob kept up with the same routine. They would carefully ready themselves outside of each doorway. After a moment, they would enter with weapons at the ready. And every time, they found themselves with nothing to shoot and no one to question. They would search the room for any sign of a disturbance and, when they found nothing, they would report it back to Reynolds.

The living quarters were a different tale. The first of several doors was labeled BARRACK A. The door had been sealed as by the dark red square on the barrier. It was an easy enough hack, however, and it was only moments before it allowed them entry. Almost immediately, the two operatives were drawn to one of the bunk beds as something rustled. Their weapons were transfixed as, slowly, a hand rose over the edge of the bottom bed. Then the rest of the person followed.

He was a scrawny man with ghastly pale skin and muddy brown eyes that were somewhat watery. At full height, he was about level with Jacob's jaw. His eyes flitted from one to the other and back as he nervously wrung his hands before them.

"Name, now." Jacob's voice was sharp and left no room for negotiation.

The man grimaced and stuttered a little as he tried to pull together his voice. His face was an impressive shade that would have made a cardinal jealous and shone with anxious perspiration as he spoke, "I-I... Giles... D-Doctor Giles Assisi... I... I'm a scientist at this... place."

"Security clearance?"

"...L...L6..."

"Well, Doctor, care to tell us where everyone is?" Miranda kept the gun trained on the man's chest. He definitely noticed and the realization that he could be shot by his 'rescuers' made him gulp audibly. "We really don't have time to wait on you, so speak up."

"The... Subjects... They got loose... Attacked... I had to... To save m-myself... Too late for everyone else... Too late..." The latter part of his sentence trailed off as he looked at them with uncertainty. Miranda quickly came to the thought that she had to figure out where the other people were. Where were all of the corpses? What, exactly, had killed them all?

The comlink shrieked to life and flooded their connections with white noise and ear-splitting squeals. It was a harsh sound that disoriented them and left their heads ringing violently. It was not a pleasant experience. And, worse still, it meant that there was something wrong on Reynolds' side of things. Comlinks didn't malfunction on their own.

"Jupiter-1, respond!"

Nothing but static.

"Jupiter-"

'_Jupiter, this is Callisto, acknowledge!_'

"Callisto, acknowledged. Report?"

'_Whole place has gone to hell, Jupiter! Ganymede's gone completely dark and we've just lost contact with Jupiter-1. We've got reports coming in from Orcus of a M35 Mako having been dropped outside from an Alliance ship._' Miranda was utterly bemused. What was the Alliance doing on Binthu...?

"Contact Orcus. Tell them I want coordinates for-"

The door opened again.

"Turn around and drop your weapons. Now." The voice was cold and calm. The courageous Doctor Giles Assisi let out a high-pitched, piteous moan of fear. Miranda glared slightly in his direction, feeling distaste for the man flood her sense. She and Jacob had no choice but to comply with the voice's command. Their guns clattered loudly against the floor as the operatives turned to face the newcomer. Rather, newcomer_s_.

Commander Shepard held her Raikou Pistol VI level with Miranda's unguarded head.


	3. The Commander

There was going to hell to pay when she boarded The Orcus again. Someone had really... 'screwed up', to put it lightly. Obviously, information claiming that Shepard was still clearing out geth outposts was outdated. Miranda might personally put the hole through the informant's head.

However, she had a slightly more urgent matters to attend to.

Parting ways with Shepard was at the top of her list of things to do. Unfortunately, the pistol aimed at her skull was problematic. She sized up the woman before her. There was no way she would let Cerberus operatives out alive.

Not intentionally.

"You, _gehirn_, tell us what the hell you've been doing here. I'll make your death quick if you do. If you don't, your blood will paint this floor before your heart even stops." The menace in her voice made the cowardly doctor tremble. It didn't help Giles' resolve that there was a large scarlet-crested krogan by Shepard's side. He was of the same clan that the Commander was raised in. Urdnot Wrex was his name, if she remembered correctly and she knew that she did. Her memory was infallible.

The soft sound of footsteps announced the approach of another and, sure enough, the third member of Shepard's squad came into view. A slight, suited figure emerged through the doorway. It was the young quarian. Her name was Tali'Zorah nar Rayya.

"Did you find anything particularly useful from that Cerberus omni-tool?" The tone she used was different than when she spoke to Giles. There was no cutting edge to her voice with Tali, but obvious emotion

was still lacking. It was to be expected. Emotional displays -- even ones as small as a subtle vocal alteration --were weak points that enemies could exploit. Apart from that, krogan weren't known for being

creatures of great feeling. The slight change in her voice was probably due to a sliver of humanity shining through. Miranda was interested in finding out how she acted when not exposed to enemy eyes.

"Just some recovered files he had downloaded, Commander." The quarian's voice gave away her youth. It was obvious that she still had some maturing to do. No doubt her voice and figure would develop more in the next couple of years.

"I'm waiting."

Doctor Assisi glanced from the two unarmed operatives to the gun in Shepard's grip. From the expression on his face, Miranda knew what was coming. The wheels were turning in the good doctor's mind as he tried to think of a solution to his dilemma. With a last fleeting look at Jacob and Miranda, he suddenly flung himself on the ground before the Commander and her squad.

"P-please, don't shoot! Help me! They were keeping me hostage in this room. I-I'm just a low level assistant...I, uh, never actually knew what was going on! Save me, I'm begging you." His voice was piteous and it was apparent that he was shamelessly groveling for some sort of mercy. The story sounded feeble to Miranda and her eyes narrowed at the pathetic man. It was obvious that the Spectre was equally displeased with the man's performance.

"Commander, what if... Is he really a hostage?" Tali sounded uncertain as she turned towards Shepard, obviously seeking guidance or reassurance.

"He's lying, Tali." The pistol came around to slowly press down against the man's scalp and illicited a horrified squeal from the doctor. "The only thing worse than a coward is a traitor."

The blood spat across the floor and spattered onto armor. Miranda knew that Shepard truly believed what she had said. As an impressionable child, she had been instilled with krogan values and ethics. The lessons, according to some records, were sometimes brutal because she had largely been considered to be a human blight among the proud krogan.

"_Verrator_." Wrex growled. He kicked the corpse so that it rolled over onto its back, exposing the chest. He then took a slight step back and waited. He didn't pause long. Shepard pointed her gun directly at the body's heart and then fired. Wrex moved up and mimicked her actions.

Only they understood the significance of the gesture.

Shepard turned to face the other two members of Cerberus. She gestured at them and then to the remains of the scientist, her question unspoken. She didn't need to ask them outloud. They would tell her what was going on or soon join their 'comrade' in a blood soaked heap.

The comlink beeped before a woman's voice spoke to them through the background noise of gunshots, '_This is Callisto-2, assuming command of Callisto. The area is hot. Callisto-1 is KIA, I repeat, Callisto-1 is KIA. Jupiter, The Orcus is sending an evac shuttle. ETA is 10 minutes. Better haul ass. Callisto out._'

Shepard shifted her pistol between the two, silent. And then she spoke, "I believe we killed your superior. So, which one of you is next in the chain of command?"

No one spoke.

"Not going to answer?" The Spectre couldn't have cared less if someone responded to her. She stepped forward a bit, the barrel if her weapon pressing close to Jacob's temple.

But she never pulled the trigger. The opportunity was stripped away from her by a sudden high screech. Wrex, still standing partially in the corridor, let loose with his assault rifle, growling his pleasure at seeing some action. A sickly green substance flew over Wrex's crest.

"Poison, Shepard!"

At the warning from the krogan, Shepard drew away from the operatives. The action bewildered Miranda. It was an odd thing for the woman to do and did not at all fit into her psychological profile. At least, she

thought so. And then she realized just why she hadn't taken the few precious seconds to execute them. Miranda watched Shepard as she grabbed the quarian and pushed her back up the hallway. The Commander was careful to keep herself and Wrex between Tali and their poisonous aggressors. Her actions made complete sense.

Tali's safety took precedence over the deaths of a few Cerberus operatives. She had just displayed that intense loyalty. Loyalty to her krannt. Protect the most vulnerable at all costs. Protect them not only because they would walk into the darkest fires of hell for her, but because any vulnerable member was a weak point; the loss of one of her own would weaken the entire unit as well as herself. Not to suggest that the quarian was useless. If that were the case, then Shepard wouldn't have allowed Tali to be in her crew.

And then the squad encountered another problem. The aliens had effectively flanked and trapped them. A cacophony of screeches told Miranda that there were quite a lot of enemies descending upon them. The operative took the chance to reclaim her weapon from its resting place on the floor. She had no doubt that the Commander could probably handle the situation. But, she couldn't risk losing Shepard. She was too important to humanity.

"Get their backs, Jupiter-3." Even though Shepard had just threatened his life, Jacob didn't question the order he had just been given. Instead, he picked up his shotgun and pushed his way by Wrex before the krogan could shred him to pieces with ammo.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Shepard snarled as she positioned Tali behind her. The quarian had just sent her combat drone speeding ahead of to attack the... whatever they were. They couldn't be rachni. Rachni were extinct.

"Making sure we all live since it doesn't seem like you can manage on your own." Miranda knew that she had just insulted the krogan-raised woman and the atmosphere thickened with the Commander's repressed fury. No doubt that the woman wanted nothing more than to snap her neck. That wasn't really an option at the moment with the aliens closing in.

"Just because," Shepard quickly switched out her pistol in favor for her heavy submachine gun, "You feel like helping now," One alien fell before them to be replaced with another, "Will not stop me," Shepard nudged Tali futher back to avoid another poisonous attack, "From killing you later," Miranda picked off a couple of little green scurrying creatures that exploded upon impact, "Cerberus."

Wrex let out a tremendous roar as he pushed forward on his side, now aided by Tali's drone. The enemy seemed to be thinning out and falling back. Lowering his gun, the krogan Battlemaster charged forward and crushed one of the injured beings with his immense strength.

"_Schwach_." The krogan grunted, sounding disdainful.

"_Rukzug_. Tali, we're leaving. We've got the omni-tool data to sort through on the ship and those files from the other building. We're done here. Let's move, now!"

The group started back down the way they had entered, Tali at the front with Wrex. Miranda got the feeling hat Shepard was staying back to keep an eye on them. She was being very successful on that front. The Commander had managed to separate her squad from the Cerberus agents and now she acted as the barrier between them.

Shepard said something rough and gutteral to Wrex. Miranda didn't catch it but whatever she said prompted the krogan to push Tali towards the door, making sure not to damage her environmental suit. Any exposure to the toxins that had been released would probably be fatal. After using up one more thermal clip, Wrex drew back through the front door with Tali.

Shepard remained behind, unloading clip after clip into the aliens to futher diminish their numbers. After the last arthropod fell, a fist flew into Miranda's view before landing a stunning blow to her face. Miranda's lip split upon impact and her grip on her pistol loosened just enough for it to be smoothly forced from her grip. This was just offensive, Miranda thought as glared at the Spectre. She was being threatened with her own weapon.

"Doesn't this make you a traitor too? We did just help you." Jacob had his own weapon pointed with Shepard's heart and sounded outraged.

"No," A harsh, burning pain radiated from Miranda's shoulder and she stumbled back a few paces. Before Jacob could pull the trigger, Shepard had the gun aimed between his eyes. "You are not my friends, my crew or my clan. I have no loyalty to you. I have spared her life. Any debt is repaid."

With a last glance at the pair, the woman was gone.

Jacob moved to check on his partner, but she waved him off. She was fine. Miranda knew that if Shepard had really wanted to kill her then she wouldn't still be breathing. That was simply a fact.

"Check to see if he's dead." She needn't specify who. They both knew she meant Reynolds. Ten minutes went by and Miranda fingered the trigger of her weapon, feeling uneasy about how easily the creatures had trapped the Normandy squad. They were intelligent and homicidal. A bad combination.

"Confirmed KIA." That was as expected.

"Did you get anything off of his omni-tool? The terminal he was accessing?"

"The quarian must have wiped them clean after she downloaded everything."

"Let's move. We have a shuttle to get to." Death was a fact of life, especially with many of the projects that Cerberus worked on. At one point, it had bothered her. But, she had been younger then. Now, all she could do was dismiss it. Nothing would be achieved through excessive mourning.

It took only a couple of minutes for Miranda and Jacob to rendezvous with the remaining Callisto squad. Callisto-3 had to be supported by Callisto-2 in order to even get into the shuttle. Even with the protection of his heavy armor, Callisto-3 had taken quite the beating.

"Damn sure it wasn't just rebellious scientists. We just lost a couple of good people." Jacob muttered. He was right. Of the nine operatives sent out to investigate, only four returned.

"Looks like Lawson got beat around to. You better go to the med-bay with Nimitz." Callisto-2, Gilda Eulalia, motioned towards her wounded companion, Jupiter-3, Chester Nimitz, leaned against the side of the shuttle. His head and arm seemed to be bleeding profusely. There was a reason that Cerberus superiors told them they should wear helmets during an assault. Miranda hated helmets.

She pressed her hand firmly over the puncture in her suit to stop the flow of blood. Painful, but necessary. Her superior genetic code ensured that she would be active far sooner than Nimitz. Despite the

losses and lack of information, Miranda placed a certain value on the experience. It had given her first-hand experience with a subject of interest. Interacting with a subject always provided far more valuable information than strictly studying reports and data logs.

The shuttle settled back inside of the Orcus and Miranda detoured from her path to the medical bay. Instead, she headed to the briefing room. She needed to report back to the Illusive Man. Whether or not she looked further into the matter would be determined by how he responded.

"Officer Lawson," A voice caught her attention and she turned, eyes narrowed, "Operative Taylor said I should come report to you."

"Operative Clark." Her terse tone made the woman wilt visibly. She was a smart woman, very studious and usually thorough. Miranda was very unhappy about how much she slipped up, though.

"Operative, when did you realize that the intel you gave us on Shepard was bad?"

The blonde blushed and averted her eyes.

"When, Operative?"

"When the Normandy's Mako landed."

Lovely.

"Uhm...O-Officer Lawson, Ma'am?"

"What is it, Operative?" She was in no mood for idle small talk.

"You appear to be, uh, losing blood. You should probably go to the med bay."

That, Miranda thought, was a fair point.

-------------------

**Wolvesorrow**, I'd never thought about that, but you're completely right. Shepard does end up acting like a krogan if you play it right. I wanted her to be raised by krogan because I just became so fascinated by their culture and behavior. I had also played around with the idea of being raised by drell, but I just prefer the krogan. **Avarenda**, I thought it'd be nice have them cross paths at least once before Saren. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to do with writing the bits with Saren since I've never played Mass Effect, only Mass Effect 2 (On that note, if anyone spots incorrect information pertaining to either game, please feel free to correct me). **Tolk600**, long reviews are awesome so go on all you want! Certainly, Shepard would never be a xenophobic, pro-human fanatic since she spent most of her life with krogan. If anything, she'll be very pro-krogan with little interest in human matters. I'm going to have fun elaborating on how I think the krogan culture is and I hope I write it to be convincing. I sincerely thank the three of you for the reviews!

For favoriting and/or adding this story to your alerts, I thank Mm-Burnt-Toast-mM (awesome name), RayvenNightshade, knight of the forgotten (you seem pretty epic from your name, man!), Vampyr, tazzgrl24, Juunibi no Ookami (from my strictly limited knowledge of random Japanese vocabulary, does ookami translate to 'wolf'?), Turian Spectre (I really like your story), Lord Archeron, blueskittlez, Obella (your name reminds me of portobella mushrooms), jswaggy, wolvesorrow (thanks again for the review), Avarenda (thank you for the review as well), MinervaHamster (your name made me smile), Tolk600 (what does the 600 stand for? Just curious!), and MoonRune (I like the rhyme).


	4. The Soldiers

Dropping from the Mako, Shepard landed with a splash before she straightened to survey her surroundings. The camp was a little ways walk from where they had parked their anti-infantry vehicle. The Commander paused, not minding that Ashley went on ahead to check up on the situation. Once Tali also departed from the Mako, Shepard beckoned slightly and started off towards the place where Ashley stood talking to a salarian.

She wasn't fond of salarians, the bastards. They were easy to kill, at least.

After walking through the expanses of water that came halfway up to her knees, she heard her fairly exasperated Gunnery Chief trying to get some sort of plan out of the lizard.

"How soon are we moving out?" Shepard drew to a halt next to the woman but her question was directed at the salarian.

"We aren't. We are waiting for the fleet to arrive so we can come up with an effective plan of action." After looking over the Spectre, he demanded, "Where is the fleet I requested?"

"We are the fleet. A fleet of one. Your beacon was unclear, so we're all you get..." Her voice trailed of as she waited for him to fill in the blank.

"Captain Kirrahe. Third Infiltration Regiment STG." He sounded grudging, as though he blamed the miscommunication on Shepard.

"Have you found out anything, Captain?" Kaidan questioned as he flanked Shepard's other side.

"Saren's base of operations. He has a research facility here. It's heavily fortified and there are geth everywhere. Not to mention the krogan that he's bred." That last part demanded both Wrex's and Shepard's full attention.

"Bred? How could he have bred krogan?" Wrex asked gruffly, staring down at the salarian captain with his burning crimson eyes.

"Saren... He has discovered a cure for the genophage. We must destroy this wretched place and all of his research. We cannot allow for the same mistake to be made again, Commander. The genophage must remain in effect." Kirrahe looked somewhat startled at the growling sound coming from Wrex. He glared ferociously at the salarian and then stormed off down the narrow beach.

"Captain," The icy blade of her voice would slit throats given the opportunity, "Destroying a cure for the genophage seems foolish. The krogan don't deserve what happened to them. I want to secure it or the research behind it and then blow this facility to hell."

The good Captain Kirrahe had the pistol pressed against her chest, his gaze hard. Then her crew was surrounded by armed salarians. Ashley and Kaidan had drawn their weapons the moment that Kirrahe had motioned for his. However, it wasn't as though they could do much without having their bodies riddled with holes from the salarians.

"Commander, I cannot allow you to do that."

"I figured that out on my own, thanks." Her voice dripped with venom. She saw Tali nearby with her shotgun aimed at another salarian, Commander Rentola? She thought that was his name from hearing another salarian faintly address him a few moments ago. The atmosphere was thick with boiling tension.

"Hey, skipper, it looks it's one or the other... Stop Saren or cure the genophage. And... I think Saren is a bit more of a pressing matter... Just my thoughts." Shepard grunted in acknowledgement of the truth of Ash's words. Saren was the most urgent matter to attend to.

It felt like she was betraying Balor. He had impressed upon her the cowardice and injustice of inflicting such a disorder on the krogan after using them as tools to take down the rachni. She had lived twelve years on the krogan homeworld observing how the genophage impacted every day life. Fertile females and the young kept miles and miles away. Males forever grappling with other clans and each other for improved status, territory, resources and breeding rights. Countless hours had been spent toiling in the battle field on equipment or shadowing Balor and the Shaman to learn about how the krogan lived. A cure for the genophage would change everything.

"Under different circumstances, you would die." She reached up and shoved Kirrahe's gun to the side. He looked unperturbed. "I'll go talk to Wrex. Alenko, Ash, Tali, stand down, that's an order. We have to play nice, I guess."

Ashley was reluctant to lower her heavy pistol, but did it none the less. After all, she wasn't one to disobey a direct order from her commander. Kaidan was far more easy about dropping his pistol to rest at his side. Tali faltered for a moment and then moved into a state of uneasiness as she muttered to herself in quarian and then moved off to the side of Rentola's tent, her gun slung over her shoulder to be carried on her back.

Shouldering by the scrawny salarian, Shepard walked down the beach without a second glance. Little twiggy bastards had the upper hand at the moment. That was infuriating to her. Unfortunately, she also needed their cooperation to stand a chance at taking the facility down.

"_Krieger_." The term made Wrex turn towards her with a slight grunt.

"_Gefahrlich_." His traditional response was accompanied by the expected heavy thump of his left fist to his chest. Then he turned to completely face Shepard. "This isn't right Shepard. They want to destroy the cure to the genophage. They want to doom my people -- our people, to live with this damn infertility plague. This is wrong. We should take this cure somehow; save it for the krogan. Who knows when another one could be developed?"

"_Krieger_... The things that are here are little more than puppets. They are unworthy of even being called krogan. They are weak, mindless, and indoctrinated. They are guns that Saren will shoot us with. We have no choice. These aren't our people. You don't want the whole species to end up like this. You know me, _Krieger_ Wrex. If I could do anything, I would. But if we concentrate on it now, we're showing our necks to Saren and waiting for him to slice. Saren is the one responsible for this atrocious act towards the krogan. We take Saren out, and then the Reapers and, after that, the genophage will be easy in comparison."

The crimson krogan eyed her.

"Agreed."

The fact that he had opted to respond verbally rather than attempt to crush her skull said something about how much he trusted her. It didn't hurt that she had further gained his loyalty through the slaughter of Tonn Actus. The turian had begged Shepard for his life even as Wrex snapped his bones and spread his blood across the floor. It had been a brutish, traumatizing display to the young quarian that accompanied them. However, the ritual was commonly practiced among the krogan when dealing with the lowest examples of their and other species: the cowards, the traitors and the weak. It was the Execration.

The Execration was meant to be painful; excruciating. It had been practiced for thousands and thousands of years. The unclothed _verhasst --_ the individual to undergo the Execration -- was taken to the Bleeding Grounds -- a wide circular space reserved for executions-- for other members of the clan to observe and, usually, roar their approval. The Alaric -- the individual meant to carry out the Execration -- would have to physically beat the _verhasst_ to the ground and then systematically pulverize the bones of his limbs. First the hands and feet, then the wrists and ankles, and the arms and legs were last. Then the shaman of the clan would give the Alaric the _stimme_ of the shaman, a two-foot long curved blade. Other species thought that a krogan's hide was impervious to blades. They were wrong. Other species didn't know percisely where to cut.

With immobilized extremities, there was no way for a _verhasst_ to escape his fate. The Alaric would first skin his legs and arms and toss the thick hide off to one side for waiting varren to chew on. Then the limbs were severed from the living _verhasst_'s body. The quad was the next thing to be sliced and tossed to the varren. And after skinning the rest of the _verhasst_, the Alaric would use the _verhasst_'s blood and spread it around to cover as much of the earth as possible in a circle. Then the corpse was left to the varren.

Shepard had seen dozens of Execretions every year she lived on Tuchanka. On one immature krogan who had died, the shaman had taken Shepard to the Bleeding Grounds and required that she perform a mock Execration. The shaman showed her where and how to cut with the _stimme_ and even had a litter of varren pups brought to the Grounds with their mother and sire to feast on the body when she was finished. Later she found out that having her perform the ritual was one of many tests to see whether or not she was worthy of being called Urdnot. She was worthy. She had been nine at the time.

When Tonn Actus pleaded for his death, Shepard ignored his cries even as her humanity rebelled against her decision. In fact, his weakness had earned him the Execration. The height of dishonor among warriors in battle was to give in, to submit, to _beg _for death, to admit defeat. The weak did that. The weak were worthless. The weak were destroyed.

Wrex looked her solidly in the face, his eyes intensely gazing into hers.

"I want Saren's head." That was that. That was the confirmation she had been waiting for. That simple sentence declared Wrex's willingness to follow her lead. Shepard tilted her head forward and struck her left fist to her chest. Wrex responded in kind.

As she headed down the slice of beach, Ashley came to her side. They walked in silence for a few seconds, something that was an odd occurrence when it came to Chief Williams. A few yards from the salarian captain, Ash halted and laid a hand on Shepard's arm. The action made the Commander stop and face her.

"What's on your mind, Ashley?" Though unnoticeable due to the fact that she was wearing a combat helmet, Shepard was studying the other woman's expression. While she was hardly the best at interpreting human behavior, she wasn't ignorant enough to miss the fact that something was obviously bothering Gunnery Chief Williams.

"Commander... well.... The salarian, Kirrahe, came up with a plan for an assault." Ashley straightened herself up and steeled herself to say something, "He's divised a plan to create a makeshift nuke and Joker can bring it in, but we need to find a place to put it and clear out the infantry and AA turrets. He wants to divide his remaining men into three teams to attack head-on. Then you, Shadow, can infiltrate the back... But, he needs one of your crew to go with him and whoever goes is facing bad odds... I just wanted to say that I volunteer for the job, Skipper."

"Noted, Chief." Shepard answered, her tone leveled but softer than usual.

Shepard didn't like the request. That damnable salarian had a quad. However, having one of her soldiers with the assault teams might help guarantee their success. She couldn't trust them to be able to handle the geth on their own. In that case, she needed to send someone that could provide support that they didn't already have. Like a biotic, not another infantryman. Kaidan, seemingly because he suspected what Ashley was trying to do, sidled over to join them. He came to a halt directly next to Ashley.

"You're willingness to sacrifice is noble, Chief, and I won't forget it." From the expression on Ashley's face, the woman already knew what her commander was going say next, "But I want you on my squad on the infiltration team. Lieutenant Alenko will accompany the salarians and provide biotic support. That is my decision, Chief."

"...Aye-Aye, Commander." She saluted, acknowledging her authority.

"Understood, Commander, ma'am." Kaidan, the perpetually formal and polite soldier.

Meanwhile, the STG salarians had lined up before Kirrahe as he paced before them. Then he started spouting off encouragement in the form off a speech. He went on about how they would be glorious heroes if the records weren't sealed. When he mentioned their part in the Krogan Rebellions, Shepard curled her lip. The STG always did their part and held the line. Well, against raging krogan, their line would crumble if they didn't take them down fast enough. That was what Kaidan was there to make sure didn't happen. Kaidan would probably be their best offense and defense. With a last disdainful look, she turned her back on the little pep talk that was being given.

Shepard beckoned for her crew. There was no need to waste more time listening to some salarian speech. She didn't care what he did or said as long as it motivated his men enough to offer some assistance to Kaidan. Shepard was confident that Alenko could hold his own and come out on the other side relatively unscathed.

"I'm going in with Tali and Ashley. Three-man...woman infiltration squad. Alenko is going in with the salarians to aide the assault." No one questioned her partner choices. No one ever did. "Wrex, Liara, Garrus, you're with the Normandy. Still, I need you suited up, armed and ready at a moment's notice. It may turn out that we need reinforcements later on. If we do need back-up, Garrus will take point with Umbra squad until you regroup with us and we will coordinate from there. Understood, crew?" The murmur of affirmatives and other such sounds of confirmation asured the Commander that her team was ready. With the plans in place, Shepard glanced back at the salarians. Kirrahe had sorted them into three teams and, after seeing that she was done speaking to her crew, he gestured for her to come over.

"Commander, I'd like for everyone to live through this assault and we don't need to lessen the odds of that further by letting our... disagreement, hang over our soldiers. This mission will never succeed if we can't cooperate. Do I have you and your crew's full commitment to this operation and its success?" Kirrahe's tone was curt.

"Of course, Captain." Shepard, even with her dislike of the salarian, knew that the mission far more important that her feelings toward Kirrahe. The salarian nodded and turned back to his men.

"Mannovai, you will be under my command. Aegohr, you will be under the command of Lieutenant Alenko. Jaëto, you be under the command of Lieutenant Tokkoa. Are there any questions, men?"

No one said anything. The weight of the mission hung over the area like a inauspiciously heavy fog. What they were about to attempt would be largely considered suicidal, even for members of the STG, a Spectre and a crew of exceptional soldiers. A comforting thought for the Normandy crew boosted their confidence about the mission: Shepard was just too damn stubborn to die.

"Tali, Ash, let's move out." Shepard only paused by her massive krogan crewmate to raised her left fist slightly and say, "Tőtet, Krieger."

"Mit verniigen." Wrex smirked broadly and made the same gesture with his far larger fist. With a grin beneath her helmet, Shepard led off with her two companions without another look back. She knew that the other three teams would get the attention of the geth soon enough. From that moment, it was as though time slowed ten-fold. It took a fifteen minute silent approach to get to where they suspected they would encounter the first of the geth.

'_Let's get their attention, men._' The comlink then cut off abruptly with the beginnings of gunfire. Mannovai had begun their assault.

Shepard heard the geth before she saw them. A squad of several troopers had paused and raised their weapons. Obviously, the information that the others were being attacked spread like a disease.

The Commander nodded to Tali and then pointed to one of the troopers. The mechanical genius set right to work with her omni-tool. She had the utmost confidence in the young quarian. Shepard targeted another trooper and began rapidly bypassing firewalls and reconfiguring targeting parameters. Just a few more seconds and she was through.

For the moment.

The hacked troopers turned on the rest of the patrol and opened fire. Ashley moved from cover and unleashed her own weapon on them. Shepard glanced down at her omni-tool. They'd have about fifteen more seconds of keeping their hacks in place, probably a little less for Tali's. Geth were self-correcting. For people like Shepard and Tali, they were relatively easy to hack into initially, but there was no known way to _keep_ control over them. The mobile platform's programs would always correct the processes that had been altered by the hacker.

As their time ticked away, Shepard and Tali readied their weapons and then came out firing. The last of the geth squad fell to a powerful blow from Tali's shotgun. The quarian made no effort to step around the synthetic corpse and instead trampled over it, pointedly pressing her foot onto the head.

It was a small victory. Shepard knew that they were outnumbered tenfold. The fighting was just going to keep getting harder, especially for the assualt teams. Shadow team was still essentially undetected. After all, the salarians and Kaidan were at least keeping the geth occupied. However, if those krogan came out in force, they wouldn't stand a chance. At least Shadow would probably be fine. Shepard knew where to shoot a krogan for maximum damage.

"Incoming drones, Commander!" Tali slid down behind a large boulder to shield herself from the attack. Shepard planted herself firmly in front of the drones, her shields intact, and fired as many shots as she could into the wretched machines before finally being forced to retreat into cover. Shepard then heard a sound that she hated in the distance over the gunfire from Ashley and Tali and the explosions of drones being destoryed. Obviously the blasted machine had been stationed just in case intruders made it by the other geth.

"Tali, Ash, there's an Armature ahead."

-----------

**Author Notes!**

For adding this story and/or me to your alerts and/or favorites, I would like to thank **yankumin**, **Bettynuggs** (the second part of your name makes me think of nugs from Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening), **bandgsecurtiyaw**, **Lord Volkov** (I like that name, Volkov, maybe I'll use it for something in the story), **Shooter989** (Does 989 stand for something? Just curious!), **Gib311** (311 have any significance? What about Gib? That's a fun name to say, Gib.), **TexasWatermelon** (I'm from Texas, kind of! I was born in Temple, Texas! But, then my adoptive parents...well, adopted me! Now I'm in NC.), **DyingDemon** (Aww, why are you dying, demon?), **Black Flash** (You sound like a superhero!), **Tolk600** (Hey! What's going on, man?), **sr3651** (Any significance behind the numbers?), and **serval2** (I liker servals!). Thank you all very, very much! I really appreciate the support!

To my lovely reviewers:

**Wolvesorrow**, the transition from ME2 to ME has been... rocky. It's a great game though, really! I absolutely love it. However, I keep throwing grenades when I don't mean to and being untrained in three of my four weapons doesn't make me a happy girl. But, I did choose an Engineer (because of my Shepard in this story), so I'm dealing with just a pistol. It's not bad! As I said in my message to you, the last chapter was written almost exclusively on my little iTouch and it made reformatting... difficult, to say the least. I'm very glad you're enjoying my Shepard!

**TexasWatermelon**, this will definitely be a Miranda/Shepard shipper story. I was highly disappointed during the game that you couldn't choose her (or Tali, for that matter) if you have a female Shepard. Thank you very much for the compliments! I'll do my very best to keep up the quality of the story!

**Tolk600**, where are you from? Yeah, I took a good while working in legitimate reason for Shepard to even cooperate with Cerberus. I've found one that goes along with her personality and background, so I'm happy! I believe that the German language is a suitable one for the krogan! Five (brownie) points to you if you spot the reference to the Visigoths. I'm finding that I really enjoy using the Mako to blast the hell out of everything in my path and for running over geth!

**Avarenda**, I have the game now and am steadily playing through it! I'm very happy with everything except for the couple of bugs here and there. It's really interesting to talk to everyone in the crew and develop relationships. Really, I think the game is fantastic and I'll be replaying it a lot with the different backgrounds and classes and all that.

To everyone, if you have nothing else to comment on, think of reviewing as a game! I put a LOT of thought and research into every place, character, food item, animal, machine, tree, ritual, etc, etc that I use in my writing. So, you can always go try to tell me where each name originated from and your thoughts on that and whatever else you feel like writing. I'd be curious to see who can make what connections.

Anyway, thank you to everyone for your support and reviews! It really encourages me and inspires me! I have plenty of ideas for this story, so there will be more to come!


	5. The Prodigy

_As a four-year old orphan in the city of Collombya on Hito, she had resided in the slums with a group of older kids. They were various ages, mostly addicts or benign criminals, but relatively peaceful. They just wanted to live to an age where they could enlist in the military or get hired out as mercenaries. It had been a simple enough life. The youngest kids were always sent out to beg for donations of food or hard currency because it wasn't as though they could steal credits. They usually got just enough to get by for the day. That was how she lived, day-to-day._

_And then came Laren._

_A girl had grabbed young Shepard by the arm and pulled her along when she and her partner had been fleeing from a group of vorcha after having stolen supplies from them. The small girl had stumbled along behind them, bewildered, and then found a gun being shoved into her hands. Shepard saw weapons enough to know the dangers, but hadn't learned how to use one. It wasn't like the other kids owned them, it would take up valuable drug and food money._

_Laren had yelled at her to point at the head and pull the trigger, so she had. The first vorcha who came around the corner of the alley crumpled. It was like the vorcha was afflicted with narcolepsy. When she saw the next vorcha, she pulled on the trigger again. The force of the small gun pushed her off balance and she had to reorient herself after both shots. Laren and her companion picked off the remaining three vorcha before emerging from where they had hidden behind the empty industrial crates that were littered everywhere._

_The gun had fallen to rest in front of her, still gripped tightly in her tiny fists._

_Laren had patted her solidly on the shoulder in congratulations on a job well done and was completely oblivious to the fact that Shepard had never killed anyone before. Growing up where they did, it was rare to find a child that hadn't yet killed someone -- usually another kid -- by the age of, at most, six. When Laren and the other started to leave, Shepard followed._

_It was the act that led her to join Laren's small -- at the time -- and violent gang. From that point on, she lived a slightly better lifestyle. Laren happened to be the unspoken leader of the group and dealt with everything. She gave orders, organized sleeping and eating arrangements, settled arguments, and trained the clueless newcomers how to shoot a gun, how to effectively use a knife, evade security and their mechs, and -- to those who expressed an early talent and interest for the area -- how to bypass basic security and repair weapons. At seventeen, she was a true jack-of-all-trades. In another life, she would have been celebrated as a prodigy; a young genius. However, the circumstances had turned her into a phenomenal young criminal and there seemed to be no limit to what she could accomplish once she put her mind to it._

_Within the next two years, Shepard hung on Laren's every word and acted on every order. She developed a higher proficiency with a gun even though she still had trouble with the kickback, became a quick fingered thief, and, most importantly, rapidly became one of the best hackers of the group. Compared to most humans of the same age, she would be seen as rather accomplished. However, in Collombya, she was just doing what she needed to survive and grow._

_Laren watched the docking bay carefully for potential targets. Sometimes a few naive, optimistic good Samaritans would arrive on a second-rate cruiser in an attempt to rescue the poor undernourished, unloved orphans from their awful existences. In return for their charity, they would be followed for days to figure out a pattern, and then a child would wander up to them and pitifully plead for help. The child would usually be taken into the vessel and, after observing security and personnel habits, he or she would slip off and return to Laren at the first chance. The 'strike' team, generally comprised of the stealthiest three individuals, would be in and out before anyone was any the wiser. When the Samaritans tried to tell authorities about the theft, they would usually be waved off and quickly forgotten. The plan worked time and time again._

_Laren became more ambitious. There was a cruiser she had been keeping an eye on for some time because the Blood Pack emblem was emblazoned on the hull. That was what initially caught Laren's attention. Mercenary ships generally yielded a larger profit, not to mention an upgrade in weapons. However, they had never dealt with multiple krogan with a bunch of vorcha at their command. Vorcha were irritating enough to deal with by themselves. Krogan were a whole different level of dangerous. Using a male of any age would have guaranteed that person's death. Laren, however, was fully aware of the importance they placed on females and especially female children. Males were superfluous. Females were important. Using a girl may be more successful. First, Laren had wanted to know what kind of firepower they had on them. _

_"Sav." The six-year old rose from where she sat with a young boy of an age similar to her own and quietly moved to stand next to her mentor. "That cruiser could have a lot of valuable stuff on it. I need you to go borrow a gun from one of the vorcha. Do you think you can handle it?"_

_Determined and always rising to whatever challenge was placed before her, Shepard was ideal for the job._

_Shepard swiftly weaved in and out of the crowds on the docks. No one ever paid any attention to her. No one ever paid any attention to any of 'little slummers', as the orphans and abandoned children were called. They were too common a sight to give any of them special attention. The only time the inhabitants of Collombya took notice of any of the little slummers was to take a shot at them or to swear angrily for them getting in the way. Otherwise, no one could tell one apart from the other. Well, unless they were associated with the red sand dealers or Consultants. _

_Consultants were what humans on Earth would call 'pimps', except they trafficked children and anyone else desperate enough to beg them for a 'job' and when their merchandise was no longer of value, they would be sold off to batarian slavers. Consultants were, "Revolting", "The lowest scum of any planet" and, "Even below traitors and cowards" in the words of Laren. She had stated her opinion of the opportunistic vultures after one Consultant, a sleazy turian, badgered Laren relentlessly as he tried to buy Shepard along with a young boy. Even when his offer rose above four-thousand credits, Laren refused and then calmly threatened to shoot him if he didn't get the hell away from her people._

_Shepard had to quickly sidestep to avoid being crushed by an absentminded elcor as he slowly trundled along. She came to a halt close to the cruiser and took a few moments to observe her surroundings. She wasn't the only child under the age of ten on the docks. There were at least eight others that she could see. They were just begging for handouts from passersby. They provided a good cover. She wouldn't draw any unwanted attention to herself because she would be seen as just another little slummer; a street rat of no importance. Shepard moved in a bit closer to her intended target, close enough to listen to anything being said. _

_The vorcha were standing around outside of the cruiser. They were positioned in front of several large crates. It seemed that the Blood Pack was defending some sort of important cargo. It was probably some sort of contraband that they were trying to sell off. Whatever it was, it didn't concern her. Laren had asked her to take a gun, not their goods. It only took a few more moments for her to get within range and to select which gun to steal. One of the vorcha had set his gun down as he growled to his companions. It was a good thing that the vorcha weren't terribly bright. Shepard paused and waited... and waited... five minutes passed without an open opportunity being presented. Then ten minutes slipped by. Shepard had come to possess a patience that normal children wouldn't catch onto for some number of years. Those domestic, pampered kids could learn a thing or two from living in Collombya even for just a few weeks._

_There was her chance. She swept by and, before the vorcha realized what had happened, she had assimilated back into the crowds. Behind her she could hear the growling hisses of the angry aliens at their outrage at their stolen firearm. It was too late. Shepard was already home free. She spent the next fifteen minutes weaving through legs in order to get back to Laren. The teenager would, hopefully, be pleased at her success._

_"Ah, Sav, nice work." Laren sounded pleased as she gave young Shepard an approving pat on the head. The tall brunette took the weapon into her hands and scrutinized it. Without another word, the older girl walked off down the hall of their quarters. Well, what they called their quarters anyway. Their home was a rundown apartment building. While there were a few other random occupants, the building was largely left alone by the general population. No one cared if they lived there. Since their ranks had grown rather dramatically since when Shepard first joined Laren, more space had been required to house everyone. So, Laren's group kept to the third floor, for the moment. It was far enough from the top to evacuate in case of emergency, but also allowed for the two floors below to be booby-trapped or otherwise guarded in case of a... violent confrontation._

_The following two days were calm for Shepard. Their food supply was dwindling again, but they didn't have to worry about it just yet. The only matter of any interest was that Laren seemed to be planning something with her lieutenants, Rea and Remy. Whenever that happened, there was sure to be something important in the works. However, when the sun rose the next morning, everyone seemed to be in a rush. Something had obviously not worked out as they had hoped. Shepard was rallied to go with Remy, Laren and a select few others to hurry their plan along. From what she heard the others talking about in hurried voices, the ship they had been focused on was set to leave within the next few hours. It left them with an extremely narrow window of opportunity._

_It was now or never._

_After checking on the condition of their gear, the two teams of four split up and headed around. Laren's plan, it turned out, was the ambush. It was the first time that she suggested that they should so openly take what they wanted by way of force. She planned a surprise assault on the crew of the Jarrod. If Laren thought that was the way to go, obviously she was right. It would definitely work. Why? Because it was Laren's plan. She hadn't failed yet._

_The first team set up at a point that gave them the height advantage on the second floor of a nearby old, empty shop. There were plenty of uninhabited buildings around the city. They were the bases for the real businesses of the city; the ones for illegal trading, buying and selling. The second team would try to take whatever cargo they could while the crew was distracted by the first team's ranged assault. Compared to how Laren usually did things, the plan was reckless and unorganized. Even so, Laren moved her people carefully into position. Shepard was there for quick repairs or to serve as a young decoy to further distract the vorcha._

_It didn't take but a few seconds for everything to go to hell. _

_Laren raised her arms casually as though she were stretching. Having received the signal, the first shot was fired, the largest krogan was making his return to the ship. The huge being towered over them, having seen the group reveal their weapons. Laren had dropped the vorcha's stolen gun into Shepard's grasp. Though they kept up their barrage of fire, the krogan glared at them as though they were nothing but a nuisance. The vorcha, recovering from the shock of being attacked by children, fired right back. In the gunfight, the vorcha had the bigger guns. No one had realized that the vorcha were in possession of heavy, missile firing weapons._

_The position of the first team was right in the sight of the heavies. A stifled scream was heard before the radio contact was interrupted by a booming explosion followed by static. After a few moments during which Laren's team scattered and retreated backwards, Shepard could hear Remy's voice from Laren's com. However, the voices of her companions were fading away as she couldn't quite keep up with them as they darted away in an attempt to escape. Her strides were too short to move quickly enough after her moment of confusion. A harsh hiss behind her told her that she was in trouble. A lot of trouble._

_However, there was another definite problem. Laren had come back into view, but it wasn't of her own volition. A pair of vorcha had apparently sprung after her and were now tightly gripping her arms on either side of her, forcing her back towards the ship. She had one chance to decide. If she acted quickly enough, she could save Laren. Laren, the girl who had taken care of her, clothed her, fed her, taught her. Laren, who ensured the safety of everyone else in her care. _

_Shepard took aim at the first of the vorcha. There was a crack as the gun fired and the vorcha fell. Its companion seemed startled as its eyes focused on the tiny human. Laren started pulling herself from the vorcha's grip forcefully as Shepard fired three times in quick succession. Though it slew the vorcha, it caused the small child to stumble back. Unfortunately from her, a powerful, thick and scaly arm lifted her clear above the ground. Laren stared at her for a moment, face set in a grim expression. Then she backed away and melded into the scattering crowds. Shepard felt her heart in her throat as she was turned to face her captor. The giant krogan glared down at her. Without any other way to fight back, the six-year old promptly narrowed her eyes and smacked the gun as hard as she could between his eyes._

_He blinked, taken aback by the sudden assault. He seemed equally surprised when the small child hit him again. Then the krogan opened his broad mouth, revealing two rows of large teeth, and... he roared with laughter. As though she were a shiny new toy to play with, the alien carried her under one arm and walked over to one of the crates. After gruffly growling at the vorcha to dump the contents, she was promptly dropped inside to box and then sealed away in the darkness._

Shepard had been more than happy to sacrifice herself in order to get Laren to safety and Laren hadn't wasted the opportunity to escape. Being six, she hadn't fully realized what could have happened to her. At the time, she hadn't had a solid grasp of what death was. After all, she really had been too young to fully understand. It had always seemed temporary and surrealistic. Now that she was an adult, she had come to be darkly amused by her childhood. Death had been so intertwined in her life that she never really felt it was significant.

It was different now, she thought as she paced in front of an empty casket.

The loss of Lieutenant Alenko had left a sore spot. Unlike herself when she was younger, Alenko had completely acknowledged the risks. He knew what his sacrifice would entail. And just as Laren hadn't wasted the opportunity given to her by Shepard's actions, Shepard hadn't wasted the opportunity given to her by Kaidan. She hadn't been extremely attached to the lieutenant, but he had still been part of her crew; her krantt; her friends. Now, he was gone.

Virmire had been a very difficult mission. Tali and Ashley had done brilliantly at her side. Of course, she knew that they would. She hadn't chosen to take them along with because she ran a randomizing program on her omni-tool and their names happened to be generated. Ashley was a tough and resilient soldier who thought with her heart and still was capable of doing whatever needed to be done. Tali'Zorah was a genius machinist, a hacker without comparison even among her species.

Each member of her crew had his or her own gifts. They were all exceptional individuals. She would need each and every one of them against Sovereign, the Reaper.

It was a daunting task. Shepard relished the idea of such a great battle even if it could cause a massive extinction of all sentient beings, but the sheer weight of it just settled itself on top of her.

Shepard placed her open palms on the casket before her, bowing her head. Alenko had been a good man, a good soldier, and a reliable friend, for what that was worth. He had been brave, even in the face of inevitable destruction and he hadn't begrudged her for choosing Ashley. He was a true soldier; stronger than what any captain could hope for. She couldn't help but think about whether she should have spent more time getting to know him. Well, there was nothing she could do about it now.

She needed to talk to Ashley.

Shepard gazed at the casket for a moment longer, committing every detail to memory. It would serve as a reminder to never allow such a thing to happen to her crew again. With a final pat, she drew back and headed to the lowest deck of the Normandy. Ashley would be waiting near the rifles, dutifully maintaining each and every one of them. They didn't maintain themselves, after all... Not yet, in any case.

Ashley had taken Alenko's death very hard. The rest of the crew had mourned and started become even more resolute about their objective. Ashley, however, had lost a close friend. She was uncomfortably talking too much to the aliens on the crew and therefore spent most of her time focusing on the human members of the Normandy. Kaidan had been there to balance her out. She was all for humor, Kaidan was all business. Williams had taken great amusement in talking to him, poking fun at him and he had always allowed it.

As she approached, she saw the usually upbeat soldier absently staring at the screen before her. Her shoulders were tight and her head tilted downwards, her entire body rigid and tense. Ashley had been utterly silent since they returned from the mission on Virmire two days ago. Shepard hadn't heard her talk even once since returning to the Normandy. Chakwas had even told her that she hadn't eaten anything either.

"Ash?"

It was obvious that something was wrong for another reason. Ashley Williams never let anyone sneak up on her. And yet, she started slightly when she heard Shepard's voice. A bad sign.

"Yes, ma'am?" Her voice was strained, but she had been attempting to hide it.

"You can drop the formalities, bekannte. I came to talk The doc has informed me that you haven't eaten since we got back." Shepard's voice was more or less flat, but the slightest hint of softness crept into her tone and her demeanor was more relaxed with Ashley than with anyone else on the ship. Except for Wrex, of course. However, it was different with the krogan. Ashley was different. At the krogan word in her sentence, Ashley gave her that confused expression that made it clear that she didn't know whether to be amused or angry. As usual, she came to the conclusion that it was the former. Ash trusted the Commander enough to know that if she wanted to insult, she would do it in a language that Chief Williams recognized.

"You gotta use krogan on me, skip? You know I don't understand what the hell you're saying when you do that." Ashley allowed a weak smile to play across her features.

When Ashley first joined the crew, she had been... hesitant, to say the least, about Shepard's past. She distrusted aliens and, despite Shepard's exemplary service record, she saw her as nothing but a krogan loyalist. Now, that wasn't entirely untrue. Shepard was extremely loyal to the krogan species. She was loyal to Clan Urdnot. Shepard had had absolutely no problems confirming that part of Ashley's beliefs. However, she was also loyal to the Alliance. She was an Alliance soldier and had served them diligently and to the absolute best of her ability. Still, Ashley had been skeptical. She had treated her superior officer with somewhat scathing respect. So, Shepard had simply have to prove to Ashley, time and again, that she was loyal to the Alliance. Over the months they had been aboard the Normandy, they had eventually formed a close bond. Her connection to Shepard had made her more receptive when the aliens on the ship tried to speak with her. She was a little less harsh and actually tried to be civilized.

"It's never too late to learn, Ashley." Shepard gave her a slight smile. A rare smile. Shepard was always tense around, well, everyone. She hardly ever smiled. She knew that Ashley had been trying to get her to lighten up. The brunette had once mentioned that it was nice to see a bit of her humanity come out and she should smile more often. Shepard was bewildered to find that she sometimes couldn't help herself around Ashley. Her feisty, humorous attitude was infectious. It was alarming to the nearly krogan Spectre. Her face became more serious and the fleeting expression of amusement was shoved aside in order to be replaced with a little frown. "About Kaidan..."

"Look, Commander," Ashley started off, sounding heated. However, when she brought up her gaze to stare the other woman down, she seemed to falter. The Chief ran the palm of her hand over her hair, brushing aside a few stray strands. "Commander... Kaidan was the superior officer. You could have saved him, Shepard. You should have saved him. You should have left me there, Shepard. You should --"

"I shouldn't have done anything other than what I considered best, Chief. It wasn't your place to make the decision. As your commanding officer, it was mine. I did what thought was best. It was not your fault that Kaidan died. It was mine. And I will fight harder for it. Don't blame yourself." The Commander's carefully maintained monotone had given way to allow emotion to shine through. Shepard was taken aback with herself. Well, her outburst hadn't really been expected by either party. The most Shepard had expected to do was to try to flatly soothe the Chief's guilt and to demand that she report to the mess to eat. Ashley would deny a direct order like that.

"Chief... Ashley."

"Skipper?"

"You're dismissed, Chief. Get your ass to the mess. Now." Her tone left no room for argument. The moment passed. There was a pause. Then Williams gave a salute and a placating smile to the Commander.

"Aye, aye." Before she left, however, Ashley lightly brushed her hand against Shepard's arm and stopped to say, "And... thank you, Commander. For, uh, trying to cheer me up. It helped. I appreciate it."

"To the mess, Chief. Immediately."

-----

**Author's Note**: I do realize that there will probably be those of you who are not exactly thrilled with the Shep/Ashley thing at the moment. Trust me, this really is going to be Miranda/Shepard, I promise! Just wait for it! Now, on to the usual thanks:

For adding this story/me to your favorites/alert, I sincerely give my thanks to **Misc Madwoman** (I like that name), **Taka The Fallen Knight**, **BioFan**, **Tolk600**, **tjal**, **Breitvre**, **paxm**, **Aka-Senko** and **SXM** **MelChan**! Thank you all very, very much!

Now for the reviewers!

**MasterYuri666**, I know what you mean, I've searched through the archives looking for some, but there just aren't enough for me to be happy with!

**Gib311**, very cool! Gib is a pretty awesome name!

**Avarenda**, I'm very happy to hear that you're enjoying how I'm developing the culture. I'll do my best to keep it interesting! Yeah, Kaidan pretty good and dead. I've always leaned towards Ashley since I started with ME, so, I just keep saving her!

**Bettynuggs**, I never had a problem with his voice actor, I mostly just thought Kaidan fell kind of flat as a character. Just my thoughts, obviously! A krogan's krantt seems to be the most important thing to them apart from fertile females, so, I tried to keep her true to that.

**khaos974**, thank you very much! I tried to do something with Shep that I hadn't seen done quite yet.

**wolvesorrow**, Whoops, sorry for spoiling you so much? Want a cookie? I was extremely upset that the only femslash possibility was with Kelly. It was really frustrating! I'm very happy to be writing this story since I couldn't do what I wanted in the game.

**Tolk600**, that's cool, man! Good job on the history blurb, it made me smile. The Mako is really kickass, but I ended up putting on the boosters, turned the wrong way and toppled into a pit of molten lava when I was going for Liara. Well, that certainly taught me to watch how fast I turned the corners. I really didn't like the "rogue cell", excuse either. It was weak. I didn't believe it either. I wish you could have made her see that the Illusive Man wasn't all puppies and rainbows, but now I can in the story! Kaidan is a nice guy but, I don't know, I never really connected to him.

**paxm, **yeah, I know the summary is vague. I'm starting to think that maybe I should include a femslash tag in there somewhere! No worries, I do the exact same thing when I'm browsing. I'm really glad to have drawn you in to my Shepard-verse!

**SXM MelChan**, I really like your name! I'm glad that I'm able to fulfill your dream for you! ME has been great to play. The side missions get a bit repetitive, but I do really enjoy them and I love learning about the back story and all the different ways that things can turn out! Thank you very much!

Now, everyone, I really want to apologize for how long this chapter took! I had trouble figuring out how to start the chapter but I think it ended up pretty nicely! Can't wait to hear what you all think!


	6. The Savior

Black.

Everything around her was dark.

Oh, right, her eyes were closed.

For a few moments, she knew nothing of the world except for the dull pain that told her she would need medical attention. Something warm and wet coated her forehead, dripped into her mouth and tasted unpleasantly metallic. The woman forced herself to roll over and to lift herself up on hands and knees. She felt trapped, but oddly pleased with herself. Everything crashed violently into place, haphazardly solving the puzzle of what the hell was going on and simultaneously charging aggressively to the front lines of her thought processes.

Saren, the rogue Spectre.

He was dead.

He had shot himself. And then the Reaper took control of his corpse, mangled it so that it resembled little more than a synthesized shell and attempted to kill her, Tali and Ashley.

A failed attempt.

Speaking of Sovereign, she finally looked up at the debris towering over her. It appeared that the Fifth Fleet had done its part. She suspected that a bit of Sovereign had nearly crushed her to death. After all, the last thing she recalled before her black out was a giant piece of wreckage hurtling towards her. She had had to push Ashley and Tali aside, sending them toppling down... somewhere. But, Shepard staggered into a more upright position, where were Tali and Ashley?

The prospect of having failed to protect them hung low and ominous above her. Her adrenaline flared up and pushed her into action. Shepard was almost positive that she had kept her krantt out of harm's way.

Even so...

There was no time to waste being on the ground as she was. The position she was in left her vulnerable to any sort of attack. She despised being vulnerable. As she rose to her feet in determination, her ribs wholeheartedly protested the action. She ignored their pleas.

A krogan warrior always got back to his feet after being knocked around.

Always.

The only time they stayed down was when every organ and its duplicates failed them.

Shepard was not going to be floored by a damn piece of a Reaper.

Her boundaries as a human being had always been difficult for her to accept when she grew up. She had expected far more of herself; far more than her body could offer. She expected herself to be as strong, as fast, and as resilient as every krogan she lived with. She had always forced herself to train harder and longer than the other young krogan just to achieve the same level of skill.

It had paid off for her. She managed to surpass every other human she knew.

She limped over a section of the debris before jumping down. Her knees almost buckled, but she locked them stubbornly. As a result, she simply staggered a little to the side. Her eyes scanned the area in front of her. Her vision focused, blurred, focused again.

It appeared that Captain Anderson and some unknown soldier were just coming to her krantt's aid. Good. They had survived. That was all that had really mattered to her. Despite what had been a looming threat to all existing species, Shepard had thrived in the battle. It was what she had been groomed to do. Every krogan, no matter how young, dreams of their first adrenaline rush in a battle against the odds. Shepard, though human, was really no different.

She gloried in the pain that she felt and the blood that she shed as she walked towards the rescuers. From the expressions on their faces, they had thought her to be dead beneath the rubble. Shepard took grim satisfaction in having proven them mistaken. It would have been dishonorable to have been killed by a piece of an enemy's corpse. Pathetic. Weak. She was none of those things.

"Sa... Shep... Skipper." Ashley's voice seemed to die in her throat, her words choking her and her eyes widened under the visor of her combat helmet. Whether from relief or some other emotion, she couldn't tell. Tali let out a breath she didn't seem to have realized she had been holding in. Shepard reached over a clapped her lightly on the back.

She took a moment to observe the quarian's figure. Lightly, she turned the young woman one way and then the other, inspecting her suit. After spotting a couple of holes in the environmental suit, Shepard gruffly addressed the soldier who had accompanied Captain Anderson. At her demand, the soldier saluted hurriedly and then ushered Tali and Ashley away to shuttled off to the medical bay of the Normandy immediately.

"You've done it. You've really done it. You saved the Citadel, you saved the Council, and you killed Saren. You made humanity proud, Shepard." Captain Anderson's powerful, paternal voice reverberated around the huge empty space. For being able to present herself as a strong presence to reporters, civilians, and to those above her, Shepard never knew how to respond when presented with praise. As a result, she said nothing and only nodded in a mute gesture of acknowledgment. Captain Anderson was accustomed to her responses, luckily for her, and didn't seem to think any less of her for her lack of words.

After a moment of silence, Anderson gestured in the direction of the second waiting shuttle and commented on how she looked like she needed quite a bit of attention from Chakwas. Shepard didn't protest. Though aggressive and more than occasionally reckless, Shepard wasn't a fool. She wouldn't fight medical attention when she truly needed it. Well, not if the battle was over, anyway.

The shuttle ride was a blur and she felt herself slipping slightly as she removed her helmet and wiped her hand across her forehead. Her hand came away, painted with a bright and violently scarlet liquid. Even so, she examined her helmet to figure out where the injury had come from. The answer was immediately obvious. A large, semi clean hole had severed through a section of her helmet. She could only assume it had been caused by another piece of debris traveling at a fairly high speed. She was lucky she had had her combat helmet on, otherwise she would've been scalped on the spot.

The shuttle entered the loading bay of the Normandy, waited for Anderson and Shepard to depart, and then was flown off by an Alliance soldier. Once they stepped through the door, they were greeted by a chorus of cheering, whooping and clapping. Everyone in the Normandy's crew seemed unable to contain their elation that Sovereign was down and Saren was dead. Again, Shepard had no idea how to respond to such a greeting and so remained silent but offered a slow smirk that was characteristic of a successful krogan warrior.

Blood was still obscuring with her vision. She should probably go get that taken care of.

In the pristine white sterility of the medical bay, Shepard saw Tali seemingly checking over her suit with her omni-tool. Dr. Chakwas was wisely leaving the quarian alone unless she specifically asked for some sort of medical assistance. Tali liked to make it very clear that she was no child and she could take care of herself. Ashley, on the other hand, was the recipient of intense physical scrutiny and medical treatment, despite the fact that she seemed to think she didn't need it.

"Commander," Dr. Chakwas gestured to the bed next to her, only sparing a slight glance before going back to work on fixing up Ashley. Chief Williams, on the other hand, seemed completely unable to take her eyes off of her. Those russet irises followed her every time that she moved. Shepard saw something in them that she couldn't quite describe. Ashley was looking at her in a strange way; a way that she hadn't encountered before. Perhaps, it was one of those things that she might know about if she had been raised by humans.

Shepard shrugged it off and wiped more blood from her eyes. Her blood loss was probably becoming significant. Fatigue was creeping into her system steadily, making her limbs feel as though she were in high gravity. Just for a second, she closed her eyes.

The next moment, Dr. Chakwas was looking over her and Ashley was sitting up in her bed, watching with concern that was poorly concealed as nonchalance. Shepard didn't remember moving to lie down on her back. Obviously, the profusely bleeding would had resulted in a loss of consciousness. She felt herself bristle with irritation at such a display of weakness and attempted to rise. However, Dr. Chakwas placed one hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down.

"I'm sorry, Commander," She said regally, not sounding at all sorry, "I must insist that you stay in the medical bay for a few hours."

When Shepard grunted in discontent and started to sit up again, Dr. Chakwas sighed and promptly injected something into her bloodstream through a vein on the underside of her arm. It was only then that the Spectre realized that her suit had been removed and replaced by a pair of military issued civilian pants and a plain white shirt with the Alliance emblem settled over the right side of her chest. Her eyes focused sharply on the doctor, demanding a reason for the forced medicinal injection.

"I am authorized to use force with uncooperative soldiers if they are a threat to their own recovery. Good night, Commander." Chakwas sounded completely casual about what she had just done. Shepard was not amused.

Much to her displeasure, the sedative that she had been given was strong and fast. Damn it all.

As much as she fought against the drug, it was inevitable that she would eventually succumb to its effects. Her usually sharp mind was slowing and becoming confused and sluggish. Shepard vehemently opposed being sedated. She absolutely detested the feeling of not being in control of her own body. If she hadn't just been drugged, she would have departed to look over the galaxy map and checked with Admiral Hackett to see if there was anything else she could do for the Alliance. Preferably, it would have been something that posed a challenge to her. Dr. Chakwas had probably guessed what her course of action would have been. The woman was far from stupid.

A heavy fog had settled over her consciousness. Without fully realizing what was happening, her lids slipped over her eyes. The sound of the door opening and closing signaled the departure of the good doctor. The room was silent save for Ashley's deep breathing. She must have been asleep. Shepard was soon going to head down that drowsy path as well. Through the heavy surrealistic haze came a voice. The voice was familiar, light, soft... pleasant.

"If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you; if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you; but make allowance for their doubting too: If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don't deal in lies, or being hated don't give way to hating, and yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream and not make dreams your master; if you can think and not make thoughts your aim, if you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same..." Why was the disembodied voice speaking to her in poetic verses? She was dreaming, so it was particularly odd that her subconscious should communicate with her in that manner. She had never been familiar with poetry. Even with the strangeness of it, the voice continued on, "...And never breathe a word about your loss; if you can force your heart and nerve and sinew to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you, except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'"

The voice faltered... and then faded away.

"Here I am, just reciting poetry again, eh, Skip?" A soft chuckle. "You told me that when I speak in poems, it's like I'm speaking another language. Just like when you speak in krogan to me. Anyway, you've already done everything in that poem, Skipper. Incredible, really... You've done absolutely everything that the Alliance has asked of you and more. You saved everyone even when no one wanted to believe you... If anyone can stop the Reapers, it'll be you, Skipper..." Another small laugh, slightly nervous this time, "I feel pretty stupid talking to myself though. It's not like you're listening to me. Doc has you all knocked out on drugs."

Another pause.

"When I came to your quarters before Ilos... I really wasn't looking to just hang out... I mean, that was great, but... Really, I just wanted to say that... I care about you... I think that I might--"

The thick drug-induced fog swept her away, refusing to let her hear what Williams had to say. And from the darkness, she was loudly recalled by the voice of the Normandy's helmsman.

"I'd hate to disturb your krogan cat-nap, Commander, but the Council wants you and Captain Anderson aboard the Destiny Ascension. I know you must be all worn out from saving the galaxy, but I think they want to congratulate you or something like that. That's serious business, right there. Funny how those big political types like everything to be formal. They could have just sent you an appreciative bit of vid-mail and maybe a pet fish or something."

"I think I would have liked that better than boarding that dreadnought to meet with them." Shepard admitted dryly as she looked around the medical bay. Ashley's bed was neatly made. Obviously, she had gone some time ago. The Spectre found herself feeling... disappointed. "I'll take the shuttle over and see what the hell they want."

"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Commander?"

"You could say that." Shepard ran her fingers through her hair.

"Shuttle is ready and waiting, Commander."

Shepard paced around her bed, searching for her armor. Only a fool would leave his ship without armor and weapons. She wouldn't put treachery by anyone she didn't include in her krantt. Off came the civilian clothing and was rapidly replaced by her Alliance N7 hardsuit and helmet. Ashley seemed to have made herself scarce. It was a difficult thing to do seeing as the Normandy only had three decks. Captain Anderson had already departed to meet Ambassador Udina aboard the asari spacecraft. Since she was unable to locate the Chief right away, Shepard gestured to Garrus and Tali.

They were simply going to board an allied starship. It still wouldn't hurt to have members of her krantt by her side. The shuttle ride was fairly brief and when it finally docked in the Destiny Ascension's hangar, Shepard took a quick few seconds to observe what she could of her new surroundings. The door moved upwards to let them depart.

The Destiny Ascension's shuttle hangar was extremely impressive. The fact that it even had to have such a large hangar for shuttles was telling in and of itself. There were rows and rows of awaiting shuttles. With a crew of over 10,000, the shuttles were probably used quite frequently. She glanced sideways at the turian next to her. He was stiff, rigid. She smirked a bit, thinking about how much effort he had to be putting into being tense. Though, from her experiences, turians seemed to be fairly high strung to begin with. However, she had never seen a turian actually _look_ stiff. They were natural athletes, evolved for ruthless grace and speed. Being stiff was not a turian's normal disposition. Even though Sovereign, the geth and Saren had all been defeated, Garrus just seemed determined to have a stick firmly wedged up his ass. That was assuming he even had a turian equivalent of an ass.

Asari were watching them closely and, once they fully realized just who had boarded the ship, head after blue head turned to focus on Shepard. Shepard, the savior of the Citadel, savior of the Council, savior of the Destiny Ascension. Guns rose into respectful positions and a smattering of applause rose from the ranks of the crew of brilliantly blue aliens. The low clapping suddenly became louder and louder. Shepard simply looked puzzled. A customary celebratory response, she recognized it as, yes, her crew had been the same way. It still felt like praise. That uneasiness settled over her body again at the thought. Tali leaned in a bit and gave her quiet instructions to simply wave back to the asari. She did. Asari after asari smiled triumphantly.

A small escort emerged from the masses. One seemed young, about Liara's age, and the other somewhat older. They gestured silently for them to follow.

The Council had gathered in a room on one of the uppermost decks and was accompanied by the ship's commander, Matriarch Lidanya. Ambassador Udina -- a rat of a man in Shepard's opinion -- stood with his chest puffed out with so much pride that one might have thought that he had personally killed Saren and Sovereign with a broken omni-tool. Captain Anderson was watching the gray-haired man with a certain about of distaste in his expression, though he seemed to be fighting to hide his true feelings towards humanity's ambassador. The Council proceeded to welcome Shepard with open arms, though not in the literal sense of the phrase. It seemed to her that they wanted nothing more than to go on in a long speech about the bravery of the humans who gave their lives for theirs and so on and so forth.

Shepard saw this as a repetition of facts that she was aware of. Every starship of the Arcturus Fleet had a crew of extremely impressive and brave soldiers, as far as she was concerned. Their relentless assault of Sovereign had proved that. The crews of Emdem, Cairo, Cape Town, Jakarta, Madrid, Seoul, Warsaw, and Shenyang had been valiant until the very end. Shepard was glad that the damn Council was acknowledging the value of their sacrifices, however. She would remember those cruisers until the day that she died. When asked for her recommendation of an individual for humanity's position on the Council, the choice was clear. Shepard uttered two words: Captain Anderson.

The disgruntled, bitter look on Udina's face was a source of great amusement.

Each member of Shepard's crew was to be awarded The Alliance Distinguished Service Commendation for Valor. The government of each alien species would be notified of the award by the Alliance except for Wrex. Even Tali was granted the award and a notification was sent to both the Conclave and the Admiralty Board of the Migrant Fleet, though, according to the young quarian, she wouldn't receive much more than a, 'pat on the head' or a few words of acknowledgment from the captain of her new ship. The real praise would come more from the geth data that Shepard had given her for her Pilgrimage. The quarian had fulfilled her promise to help Shepard against Saren and would be departing back to the Migrant Fleet within the day. When she told Shepard of her departure, the young woman was genuinely sad. However, as she had said, she couldn't just abandon her people.

Wrex, upon hearing the news back on the ship, simply grunted and waved it off. It meant nothing to him. No krogan cared about awards given by other species. His plan was to catch the first ship heading to Tuchanka. After Shepard had, as apologetically as she could manage, tell him that an Alliance ship would not be able to enter the Terminus Systems without substantial risk, he promptly dismissed her apology told her that the Blood Pack ships were always a reliable source of transportation. Wrex happened to be a highly respected male among his species because of his Rite. The killer of a Thresher Maw was always respected, grudgingly or otherwise, in krogan culture, especially Urdnot.

It was a far different matter in Ashley Williams' case. The award was highly valued and very prestigious in the Alliance. Having had to battle through a constant storm of prejudice because of her grandfather's actions at Shanxi, it was an honor to finally be recognized by the Alliance for something. With that honor in her files, it seemed that the rest of her military career was looking brighter. Perhaps she wasn't utterly damned to be stationed on ground garrison postings. Shepard, at that point, made it clear that she had no intention of moving Ashley from the crew of the Normandy because she was a worthy soldier. After a moment of silence, Ashley confirmed that she had no problems with that course of action.

Liara was flattered by the award, but seeing as she wasn't military, she wasn't sure that it would be seen as much more than words in her file. After all, it wasn't as though a human military commendation would merit any scholarly interest or give other asari any reason to think her theories and research were any more credible. It would always end up that it was just nice words without any true importance when it came to her work. Liara had no intention of trying to become an asari commando and that would be the only place that the award might be significant.

For Garrus, the recognition would be excellent if he ever chose to go back into Citadel Security. He still was rigidly concerned about Shepard's methods and recommended that she should never steal an Alliance ship again. He was sure what else he wanted to do, just that he wanted to help make the galaxy a better place. For the moment, he informed Shepard that he would like to continue to serve on the Normandy. Shepard was actively working to help out the galaxy. He wanted to be a part of her campaign against the Reapers.

The Normandy's crew was not idle for long.

Within a few days of defeating Saren and Sovereign, the Council requested -- otherwise known as ordered -- that Shepard take her crew and wipe out any remaining geth forces in Council space. It seemed like a wild goose chase to her, but she had no choice. The crew was given a few hours of time to spend on the Citadel to do anything they needed to and then they set out again. Her Chief Engineer seemed deeply saddened by the loss of his favorite companion, Tali, but had always known that she would leave eventually. Whenever Shepard made her rounds on the lowest deck of the ship, she always found that the man seemed quieter than he had been with Tali around. Shepard felt her absence as well, but would always feel far better after going to visit Ashley. There was... something. There was some emotion that she could feel coming from Ashley, but could never pinpoint what it was. It wasn't as though Krogan were good about teaching the subtleties of emotional communication.

Shepard had actually been on her way down to see the Chief when an explosion rocked her ship and tossed her off-balance. She steadied herself, leaning against a wall as she glanced up at the ceiling. That wasn't promising. Another explosion as the ship spun wildly. Explosion after explosion boomed and she could hear a scream from above that was cut short. The alarms began to shriek loudly, crew members scattered about and flames burst into existence. Smoke billowed down from the upper deck. This was bad. This was very bad.

"Suit up, everyone, _now_!" Her voice rose above the chaos and, as the lights died and flames spread around the deck, she headed towards her locker. It was convenient that it happened to be placed on the lower deck. All hard suits and weapons were on the lowest deck to make preparation for departure in the Mako faster. The Spectre quickly secured her the hard suit on her legs, waist and then torso. Simultaneously, she readied the distress beacon to launch. Just as she was clicking her helmet down into place and finishing with the beacon, a voice called her name from behind. Ashley grabbed a fire containment unit and began spraying the flames in what seemed to be a futile attempt to subdue them. Shepard pounded her fist on launch screen and heard a brief pop as the beacon shot off into space.

"Do you think the Alliance will get here soon enough?" Ashley sounded uncertain.

"We can hope." Shepard growled as she joined in the effort to put the fires out. "Get everyone you can onto the emergency shuttles. We need to evacuate, now."

At that, Ashley paused and then said, firmly, "Joker's refusing to leave the cockpit. He thinks he can save the Normandy. I'm not going without you, Skipper."

Ashley Williams had never disobeyed a direct order before.

"That was an order, Williams. I'm telling you to get the hell out of here, now!" The Commander whipped around as she snapped assertively at the younger woman. Ashley gave her a hard, stubborn stare. However, Shepard was not to be challenged at the moment. Seeing that the Spectre was not going to give in on the matter, Ashley reluctantly backed away with a soft, 'aye, aye, Skipper' and raced down the dimly glowing red corridor.

Good.

'_This is SSV Normandy, Mayday, Mayday!_' Joker's voice was cracked and rushed over the radio. Truthfully, she thought him delusional if he thought someone was going to get to them in time to save the burning wreck that was the Normandy.

An explosion thrust her hard against the wall behind her with a dull thud. After staggering to right herself again, she started towards the top deck. Progress was difficult. The visibility was only a few feet because of the collection of smoke that had risen from the fires. One of the stairwells was blocked by debris and flame and forced her to turn back to try the other one. Shepard was lucky that the door hadn't sealed her on the second deck. Obviously there was something very wrong when the automatic seals weren't functioning as they should. She wasn't complaining.

Outside, there was a tremendous gaping wound in the hull of the Normandy. Shepard would have died instantly due to the exposure to the vacuum of space if she hadn't had on her hard suit and been supplied with oxygen. She walked slowly, pushing floating chairs and other bits of debris out of her way with ease. She could see the light from Joker just ahead of her. He seemed to have managed to erect a small kinetic shield around the cockpit. He was hardly safe.

"Joker, we have to abandon ship, we have to go." Shepard urged the helmsman. Being the stubborn man he was, Joker refused to get up and get to a shuttle. She was not going to ask him twice. Instead, she would rely on brute force. Sure, it would injure him, but he could recover. He couldn't recover from being dead. Neither of them could recover from that. Her hand wrapped tightly around his forearm and pulled. He cried out and snapped at her, but was largely ignored as she persisted in dragging him from the seat. He had no choice but to accept her assistance and get his scrawny ass to he escape shuttle. She shoved him through the door, but another explosion blew her off balance. There was no gravity to keep her grounded.

The Spectre was spun backwards, barely able to catch onto one of the last standing walls. A beam from the enemy ship cut through the section of the Normandy keeping Joker's shuttle functioning.

No, krantt comes first. She had to make sure that he would escape.

She succeeded.

In the last few moments she had, she released her grip on the ship just enough to thrust one hand downwards to hit the shuttle's launch hologram. It worked.

The remnants of the Normandy exploded, shoving her away from the only bit keeping her from drifting into space. The back of her neck slammed into a bit of debris before she spun around, floating in empty space. Her hardsuit informed her that something was terribly wrong. Her oxygen was leaking out due to the damage caused by the sharp, sudden impact of suit into wreckage. If her fate hadn't sealed before, it definitely was now.

The breaths came easy at first, naturally. Her lungs filled with oxygen, expelled carbon dioxide. Oxygen, carbon dioxide. Oxygen, carbon dioxide. It took only a few minutes, however, for that to start becoming difficult. Even faced with the inevitability of death, she was determined to fight for every moment that she had left. As the air supply thinned out, her breaths came in shorter gasps. Her lungs struggled. Her brain sent adrenaline bursting through her system in some desperate attempt for her to do something, anything to help her chances of survival. After years and years on Tuchanka, she had seen many krogan injured and then speedily healed thanks to a redundant nervous system. As a naive child, she had grown to expect herself to be the same way. It never occurred to her that, because she was of a completely different species, her body simply wasn't as capable of the kind of healing that a krogan's was. Her greatest weakness had always seemed to be the simple fact that she was human. She tried to make up for this great fault by proving herself more ferocious and cunning in combat.

Again, it came to mind that her primary fault was that she was human, not krogan. Every breath was a battle now. Her lungs and brain screamed in protest as the presence of anything breathable began to vanish. Soon enough, she was taking shallow, halting sucks of empty air. Suffocation was not a way for a warrior to die. This was disgraceful. Murder burned in her eyes as she looked off in the direction of where the enemy ship must have been. Her brain was severely deprived of oxygen. Her lungs wouldn't even expand properly; there was nothing at all to even try to breath. Not even any carbon dioxide to try to recycle into her system. It infuriated her that this was happening. This was not the right way for her to die. She had always assumed that she would get taken out, after many years in the military, by a sniper or something of the sort. If she could, she would blow that enemy ship to hell for condemning her to such a pathetic end.

She closed her eyes; thought of Ashley.

Ashley rolling her eyes.

Ashley smiling.

Ashley laughing.

Ashley quipping at her.

Ashley killing geth, husks, mercenaries and pirates.

Ashley coming into her quarters before Ilos.

That unknown, indescribable look in Ashley's eyes.

Ashley, Ashley, Ashley.

The end came after a minute of suffering; after there was absolutely nothing left.

The captain of the Normandy; the savior of the Citadel; the savior of the Council; Commander Savannah Shepard, had died.


	7. The Resurrection

Armed guards, clad exclusively in black save for the small golden emblem on their chests, stood stoic outside of the clean room. The clean room was unnecessarily roomy, blindingly white and utterly pristine. Directly in the center of the area was a large capsule, roughly a few feet longer than a salarian. It was also unnecessarily large. The lid of the container was open, exposing the contents to watchful eyes. The subject within was barely more than a mound of flesh and artificial tubing. The raven haired beauty was not smiling at the sight. Her companion, a bald, ratty man was looking over the corpse.

"Despite the obvious, extensive damage," Wilson glanced up at her, apparently having come to a conclusion after his close examination, "The subject is salvageable. We can fix her up. It'll just take more time and resources than expected."

Project Operator Miranda Lawson intensely scrutinized the man for a few silent moments. She trusted his judgment enough to proceed with the project as planned. After all, this was not her area of expertise. For his numerous faults, the man was one of the best in his field. Without a word, she waved her to signal to the soldiers outside of the room. The door to the room slid away, allowing a handful of scientists to march in. They quickly sealed the containment capsule and activated the internal sterilization protocol. A fine mist filled the confines, dusting over the remains gently. The last thing that anyone of the project needed was for foreign bacteria to invade the pseudo-coffin and eat away at the body even more. Their job would be hard enough without any further decomposition or cellular damage.

It would have been nice if the Council hadn't been bloody fools to begin with. Starting out with an intact Commander Shepard would've taken far less time than having to rebuild her. Then again, Cerberus now had a catalogue of evidence that the Council and Alliance had completely turned their backs on everything that Shepard worked for in life and then died for. What with everything that Miranda had researched and what she had witnessed herself, she was fairly certain that the lack of loyalty of those she had served so diligently was sure to sway her... at least some.

Miranda, her objective completed, headed straight back to her office. It was hardly unusual for her to spend the majority of her time working in her office. If she didn't have work to do, well, she was never quite certain what to do with the little free time she received. Her room was no larger than anyone else's private quarters. The walls were a clean, stark ivory. No personal knick-knacks could be found anywhere. No pictures, no souvenirs or mementos, nothing but the standard desk, bed, bathroom, and couch. As she settled behind her desk, she leaned forward on her elbows and rested her chin on her clasped hands. It had been strange to look at Shepard's body and to imagine the woman it used to be. For a moment, her thoughts drifted to Binthu. The blackened corpse had once been the fierce woman who had threatened to kill her and then proceeded to shoot her. Miranda had read file after file, studied log after log, and watched vid after vid of the woman. Her fingers lightly idled over the spot on her shoulder where, if she didn't possess such advanced healing, there would have been a scar from Shepard's gunshot. Shepard could have easily killed her without any regrets. However, she seemed to had seen Miranda's attempt to help her team as something worthy of a kind of mercy. Fairly painful mercy, yes, but mercy all the same. That encounter, though undesired by all parties involved, had been an interesting experience. It had given her the type of insight that one could only get from interpersonal interactions.

Now it was her job to rebuild the Spectre.

The Project Lazarus Station had been outfitted with absolutely everything that her team would need. The Illusive Man's resources didn't appear to be bound by any limitations. Miranda had known that fact for years and years. It was a great advantage. The huge facility would comfortably house all personnel and provide all of the scientific and medical equipment that would be necessary.

Miranda pulled up the files of every member of the Normandy SR-1. There had not been many survivors of the attack that destroyed the warship. The Alliance, it seemed, seemed reluctant to declare all of the crew deceased even though the chances of them surviving were nonexistent. Of course, the Alliance wouldn't do anything with clear confirmation. Therefore, those who were unaccounted for were listed as MIA. What a ridiculous declaration. They were giving the families of the fallen false hopes. It was a cruel, ass-covering political maneuver. As long as they pretended to have not given up on finding them, there would be no public backlash saying that the crew of the Normandy had been abandoned. Miranda narrowed her eyes scornfully at the thought. She knew there was a reason that she loathed to interact with politicians. The only deaths that the Alliance had officially confirmed were those of Navigator Pressly and of the ship's Ensign.

Among the survivors were a notable group who had been particularly close to Shepard in life and consisted of Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, Chief Medical Officer Chakwas, Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, former C-Sec officer Garrus Vakarian, and Dr. Liara T'Soni. According the Shepard's brief data-logs -- all of which Miranda had retrieved from the Alliance database through hacking -- the krogan, Urdnot Wrex, had departed from the Normandy a day after Saren and Sovereign were defeated. From what research told her, the krogan had made a move to claim Clan Urdnot. The quarian, Tali'Zorah, had returned to the Flotilla to end her Pilgrimage. The young woman had already been accepted aboard a new ship, The Neema.

The dark-haired woman knew that it would take a few days to get to the Lazarus Station. It had not been built in a well traveled area of the Terminus Systems. It was important that the chance of a starship passing by was next to nothing. If some unwitting ship did happen to come around, Miranda's security team would take care of the situation accordingly. For the moment, there were reports to write and data to organize. She would, hopefully, have enough work to do to keep herself busy until they docked at the station. Jacob would probably make a point of trying to drag her into spending some time relaxing or in the observatory of the ship. He always tried, no matter how many times she turned him down. He was a good man.

Miranda could not have been happier when they docked at the Lazarus Station. Even though there had been some progress on Wilson's part with the body, there was little they could do without a fully equipped lab. She was a generally patient woman, but she wanted to start work. Though she knew there was no way around the length of the trip to get to the station, she still considered the days spent traveling as time wasted, Miranda was not a person who liked to waste time The Project Operator, therefore, wasted no time in ordering the Commander's body to be taken the appropriate wing of the station. Work was to begin immediately. At the announcement to her team, she saw irritable, grimacing faces glance at each other and heard more than a few murmurs of discontent.

She decided to quiet their whining.

Miranda had not been appointed Operator of the Lazarus Cell so that she could make friends with every member of her team. Those striking blue eyes of hers demanded obedience and left no room for arguments. The message came across clearly to the crew. The small words of rebellious restlessness died away and silence reigned supreme. Her words carved through the still air, piercing coldly into every listening ear. When she was done, the team moved to travel to their designated stations in a rushed, mass exodus. Wilson shifted his weight restlessly, eyes flitting from the floor to Miranda and back, and then finally left. His departure left her alone in the room with Jacob. He smiled amicably and gave her a mock salute before he, too, made his way to the security deck. Jacob was the only person onboard of the station that could get away with such informalities. She harbored a certain amount of grudging affection for the man. Never romantic. Simply platonic. He was... a friend, perhaps. Unusual for her.

As a child, she had had only one true friend. Niket. Whenever she felt as though she was worth less than dust, Niket had always been there to try to make her smile. He had been a somewhat socially awkward boy when he was younger. Niket had been a tall, gangly youth, and, in every sense of the word, average. His family was not wealthy. In fact, his family had been impoverished. He hadn't had access to the same supposedly charmed life that Miranda had and most certainly had not possessed her father's resources. Even so, Niket had never treated Miranda as though any of that mattered to him. He always tried to do everything in his power to get her to laugh or forget about the immense pressure her father pressed on her shoulders, even if it was only for a second. Niket had acted like money was not a concern, that his one goal in life was to make Miranda happy. Whenever she had to sneak back home, a great wave of sorrow rumbled over her. Once again, she would feel completely alone. The loneliness refused to be ignored, no matter how hard she tried. When Miranda couldn't take it anymore, she fled from her father -- using the term loosely -- and the only contact that she couldn't cope with losing was Niket. In retrospect, it had been an extremely sentimental moment of weakness to not cut ties with him. Yet, even as she looked back on the decision, she didn't regret it.

Miranda needed Niket. At least she could talk to him, if no one else.

The sound of her footsteps was the only thing to keep her company in the otherwise silent station as she headed to join Wilson in the laboratory to begin the long, arduous process for putting Shepard back together, piece by piece. The corpse was completely unrecognizable as she gazed upon it. At the moment, it would be impossible to determine anything about the individual the remains had belonged to. Nothing was discernible. Miranda heard Wilson muttering to himself as he kept a close eye on the mechanized systems attending to the removal of all contaminants. There were metallic splinters from the explosion of the Normandy, bits from the crumbled and mostly incinerated remains of armor, and other material from the environment the body had been recovered from.

Each day followed roughly the same pattern.

Miranda would wake early in the morning, wash, and dress before taking her breakfast alone. Jacob had fallen into the habit of trying to get her to interact with the rest of the crew whenever he came upon her despite her firm explanations that she would do nothing of the sort because there was vital work that needed to be attended to. She would go directly to the labs and, if Wilson was late, reprimand her coworker with several sharp words. Wilson, without fail, would always try to dance around something or other that he was trying to find the words to say to her. He never did find them and always shut-up and went to work. That was good. That was how she preferred it. When Wilson would break for lunch, Miranda would stay behind and run numbers, record progress logs, and write up reports for The Illusive Man, always with one careful eye on Shepard. Wilson would always return and go back to his work. It was then that she would leave to check her personal terminal and speak to one scientist or another about their theories and how their experiments were proceeding. Within an hour or so, Miranda would return to work with Wilson again. When he went for the final meal of the day, she would remain to work and even after the lights of the space station faded to signal a night cycle and Wilson had long headed to bed, she would continue working. Sometimes Miranda would even work through the night. More often than not, she would simply go to bed at some time early in the morning. She would usually walk by the handful of early morning mess by the time that she departed to sleep.

Her routine held firm for weeks.

Then it held for months.

Wilson added to her routine by persistently trying to suggest that she come to the mess hall and have drinks with him and the rest of the crew. He simply would not let it go. Over Shepard's body, he would try to act as though he was a smooth operator in all matters of charming seduction and choose his words carefully, keeping his tone leveled and casual, as he try to lure her into accepting his offers of joining him. Miranda was not oblivious nor stupid. She knew that his interests in her were purely sexual. It was not an unfamiliar scenario. She had dealt with lecherous gazes such as his since before she had even reached puberty. Her genetic tailoring to be attractive was a guarantee that she would earn her attention of that nature, both wanted and unwanted. There was nothing that she could do about it except continually decline whenever unwelcome suitors asked. Wilson was most certainly unwelcome. He, unlike others, didn't comprehend the message that she was sending.

Before all of the implants were in place, there was something that she wanted to discuss with The Illusive Man. It wouldn't be face to face as their usual meetings were. She was far to busy with the Lazarus Project to leave. As the door to the communications room opened up, Miranda stepped forward, all business, and waited as the room went black. Then, she saw the familiar holo-screens that provided her boss with all of the information he needed exactly when he needed it. Not to mention, he had a nice view of the great void that was space. The Illusive Man turned and greeted his operative with that mysterious smile that didn't reach his eyes. Miranda gave him a smile right back, an overwhelming desire for approval washing over her frame. As always, she was horrified with herself for her childish eagerness for a pat on the head. She just couldn't help it.

"Now, Miranda," He began in that cool, silky voice as he leaned forward to better look at her, "What was it that you wanted to discuss that pertains to our friend?"

"Sir, I wanted to know if you would consent to a plan to implant a method of control into the subject. A small chip should suffice, really and there's nothing to suggest that it would impact her negatively or change her personality. Sir, I believe that an insurance policy should be invested in or we could end up fixing her up just so that she can refuse our help and go back to the Alliance. I --"

"Miranda." At the blatant disapproval in his voice, she fell silent immediately. "I don't want your team to do anything that might even remotely change her from the person who was. The decisions she makes should be her own and not influenced by us. Our influence, after all, did not make Shepard the icon and hero she was to begin with. I am sure that the Commander will come around to see that it would be best if she join us."

"Sir, I'm not so sure she will be so easily convinced. Her life has been closely linked to the krogan, not humanity."

"Yes, that is correct. However, the Reapers are a threat to everyone. I assure you, Miranda, Shepard will learn that we are the only organization willing to fight to save everyone from this threat. Now, I have taken up enough of your time. You are dismissed to continue your work."

A disappointing conversation, Miranda thought as she stood in the communications room after The Illusive Man ended their conversation. It had not gone as she had hoped it would. A control implant still seemed like it would be a fine idea considering how much money and effort was going into this resurrection. Miranda found herself feeling very much how she imagined a scolded child would feel. It was not a pleasant sensation and she disliked it greatly.

The implants were implemented as planned with no control chips in the mix.

After a few more months, Shepard finally looked almost as she had before the destruction of the Normandy.

While Miranda felt some pride at the accomplishment of physically rebuilding the woman, there was still work to be done. It was far too soon to begin celebrating, despite Wilson's claims that they, 'had it in the bag.'

At the moment, she was tense and aggravated. There was obviously something wrong with the numbers that Wilson had just run. Something had been miscalculated because the results were wrong. It came down to either she was wrong or Wilson was wrong. Well, shewas far less likely to be wrong than he was. It had to be Wilson's mistake. Despite her insistence that something was off, Wilson was equally insistent that nothing was out of order.

Miranda shifted her gaze from the results displayed on her omni-tool to the subject on the medical table. Miranda carefully leaned over and inspected how the extensive scarring was healing up over the cybernetic implants. Then her eyes shifted to the holographic interface that displayed Shepard's heart rate and blood pressure. The steady 'beep... beep... beep' was calming for Miranda, though she couldn't begin to guess why. As she looked down at her omni-tool again, a slight movement caught her eye. For a moment, she didn't realize the implications of the small disturbance and chalked it up to it just being Wilson pissing around with something. Another movement. It hit her. Wilson was behind her, not in front of her. That meant... Shepard.

"Wilson." She said sharply.

The heart monitor began to grow louder, the beeps coming closer and closer together as the Spectre stirred.

"On the monitor. Something's wrong." Wilson's words were rushed as he gazed at the screen, oblivious to the movement of the subject. "She's... actually reacting to external stimuli. There's an awareness of her surroundings. Oh, god, Miranda..."

"She's waking up?"

"She's waking up."

"Damn it, Wilson. Give her a sedative! Her body isn't ready for this yet." Miranda lowered her voice, trying to sound as calm and soothing as possible. "Shepard, try to relax and don't try to move. Everything is fine, Commander."

Then it happened, the woman's piercing eyes caught hers and locked on. They were bottomless pools of a heterogeneous mixture of greens and browns and they pulled her deeper and deeper. The confusion was clear. It was a wild panic and uncertainty. Something like fear flickered to life and then immediately died to be replaced by a flaming wildfire of anger and still more confusion. The fury roared in her irises and demanded that her unspoken questions be answered. A small, hoarse sound bubbled up from the woman's throat. It was a strangled sort of enraged cry. Miranda could actually feel the Commander's rising drive for action trying to emerge. The experience unsettled her tremendously and for a moment, Miranda couldn't find the words to speak.

"Neural activity is flying off the charts. Heart rate is climbing faster. Damn it, she's moving into the red zone!"

"Another dose. Do it, now!" The sound of her own voice startled her.

She couldn't tear her eyes away from those of the Spectre, no matter how hard she tried. The medicine took effect. The intensity of the gaze began to simmer down. The eyes became glassy and the lids started to slip back down. It took a few more moments because Shepard was obviously fighting the drug in her system. Those eyes pierced Miranda's for a few more seconds. Shepard lost the fight against the narcotic. Even though she heard Wilson state that the Commander's vital signs were dropping into the green range, she couldn't pull her eyes away from the subject's face. Miranda startled herself again by hearing herself demand that Wilson run the numbers again.

Miranda icily demanded that Wilson never allow such a mistake to be made again with a subtle and dangerous threat to her voice that promised dire consequences should there be a repeat of what had just transpired. As a result, nothing like that happened again. Wilson did become more rigid and gave off a sort of aura of reserved frustration whenever he came close to Miranda. She ignored him. He, honestly, just didn't matter to her. It seemed that the man had finally picked up on that fact and didn't seem to enjoy it much. He became more and more unpleasant as time went on. He became more and more akin to a pesky mosquito who just wouldn't stop buzzing around her head no matter how many times she swatted at him.

The Project Operator stifled a slight yawn as she entered the lab. It had been a little more than two years since the project began and her work was nearly completed. This woman would her greatest accomplishment; her most impressive achievement; a true bloody work of brilliance. Everything was essentially back in order. Physically, she only had a handful of scars on her face that needed to be given some more time to heal. All that remained to be tested were her neurological functions. Miranda needed to be absolutely sure that no harm had come to the Spectre's mental processes, that her personality and morals were just as they were before her untimely death, and that her memories were all still intact.

There was a small problem.

Wilson had not yet reported to the lab.

It was not impossible for her to conduct the tests on her own, simply inconvenient. Miranda was more aggravated that the stupid man had shirked his job so carelessly. She decisively turned and exited the lab, pausing only to command a soldier to guard the entrance with his life. She wanted to confront Wilson and order him to either take his ass down to the lab to work or be prepared to be launched out of the nearest airlock. The alternative threat that she could use would be to biotically slam him against the floor. This sort of laziness was absolutely was a faint sound in the distance, a sort of pop. Another scientist doing some fool experiment, most likely. Even though she didn't think much of the slight disturbance, she still felt her fingers crackle and snap with wary biotic power.

She kept on her way, entering another wing of the facility, but paused again at another distant sound.

Even on a bad day, there were not usually many unstable experiments.

Another sound. The floor beneath her feet vibrated.

That was not a positive sign.

Miranda was too far away to try to head straight back to the lab and Shepard. She needed to find out what the hell was going on. Now. Clear cerulean eyes swung around to focus on one of the security offices. The office would be able to access any surveillance camera on the station. As she was still running through scenarios in her head, her feet carried her swiftly to the desired location. Just as she touched inside the door, the station alarms blared, screaming and red. The door immediately slammed shut behind her, the holographic interface turning red to indicate the state of lockdown. A swear passed from her lips, splitting the air in the otherwise muted room. The alarms consisted of energetically flashing lights, but didn't not include the sound. Repeated tests of Cerberus security forces saw a decreased performance when the sound accompanied the already distracting alarm lights.

Marseille, the VI system, popped up and spoke in a level, pleasant voice, "Welcome, Project Lazarus Operator Miranda Lawson. How may serve you today?"

"Marseille, show me the cameras for the restoration lab and everything between it and the shuttles." Miranda demanded, becoming more and more impatient as she heard more disturbances and felt the floor shaking with every sudden sound. Something disastrous had happened and like hell was she about to let her subject be destroyed because of an unforeseen -- and explosive -- hiccup. She was not about to fail by allowing Shepard to be killed _again_.

"Please wait a moment. Operator Lawson, please be advised that security has been activated under the authority of ERROR -- security has been activated under the authority of PROJECT OPERATOR MIRANDA LAWSON. Warning: targeting parameters have been altered under the authority of ERROR -- targeting parameters have been altered under the authority of PROJECT OPERATOR MIRANDA LAWSON. Warning: Casualties have been recorded."

Holographic interfaces flashed to life before her as the VI obeyed her command. The bright oranges and yellows of waltzing flames filled many of the images that she was being shown but they were pitiful compared to the cold rage that flooded her veins at the sound of her name being listed as having given approval to these events. Someone had been foolhardy enough to assume that such a pathetic hacking and alteration job of the VI would be enough to throw off anyone who checked the records. The 'error' message was enough of giveaway that someone had screwed around with the VI's programming. The director of this mess must have thought that Miranda would end up dead long before anyone found out the truth. A broad line of synchronized movements caught her attention. The security mechs had indeed been activated. The white machines turned sharply, raised their weapons and promptly gunned down a group of employees attempting to flee. They fell in a crumpled heap, their lives draining onto the floor around them.

"Shit." Miranda focused intently on the screen of the lab.

Shepard was unharmed. In fact, she was still asleep from the constant flow of mild sedatives into her body. There was a terminal directly to the side of the table. It's sole purpose was to monitor the woman's vitals and to regulate the amount of sedatives pumped into her system. There was only one way to make absolutely sure that Shepard would get out alive. Unfortunately, that meant she had to enlist the help of the Spectre herself.

"Marseille, give me access to the terminals in the restoration lab, now."

"Now processing your request. Security clearance has been accepted. Access has been granted."

"Halt all medical injections immediately."

"Warning: this action will cause the Lazarus test subject to awaken. This subject's full awakening is not scheduled for another two months. Extensive neural examinations have not been performed. Do you still wish to proceed?"

"Stop the injections now, Marseille!" Miranda's tone was harsh. There was no time for checking and rechecking. She wanted the damn VI to do what she said, when she said it. The sounds of gunfire were preceded by a cacophony of synthesized voices proclaiming hostile contact with still more personnel. Screams were abruptly cut short and followed by the faint thud of flesh coming into contact with the floor. Miranda clenched her teeth, jaw set stiffly. Despite her lack of connection to the individuals who made up the Lazarus Cell, as Project Operator she was responsible for them and their safety. It was not a burden that she wore lightly.

"All injections have been stopped, Operator Lawson."

She shouldered the ongoing massacre as a heavy personal failure. A continuing personal failure. A deep almost unintelligible voice caught her attention. As a few members of the human security force ducked into cover behind walls and crates, a massive white figure stomped steadily around the corner. It raised one thick synthetic arm and, with a small pop, launched a rocket directly at the guards. The resisting forces had their numbers unpleasantly slashed into a third of what they had been just moments ago.

"Activate the communications for the restoration lab."

"Communications channel is now open, Operator Lawson." That simulated smooth, agreeable tone was grating on her nerves.

"Commander Shepard? You need to wake up now. Wake up and get off of that table. You are in immediate danger. This facility is currently under attack." Her voice flooded the room in which the Commander lay. On the surveillance screen, she saw the woman drowsily shaking her head. Confusion twisted the Commander's features as she moved her muscles for the first time in two years. "Commander, there's no time for dawdling. Get off of that table and head over to the locker to your left. Get suited up and armed."

The Commander, seeming to fully realize the gravity of the situation, simply followed Miranda's guidance, albeit with reluctance. The moment that the woman's suit was completely on, Miranda switched from the room communications in favor of linking her comlink directly to her project's. She saw Shepard check the pistol after securing her hardsuit.

"There's no thermal clip in this gun." The voice was hard and glacial, not to mention hoarse from disuse.

"Just goes through the door. There's a clip right outside." Indeed there was a clip. It was the unused clip that had fallen from the guard she appointed to keep an eye on the lab before she had gone to reprimand Wilson. Again, Shepard silently followed her instruction. When one of the hacked mechs began to shoot at her, Shepard picked it off with a single shot accompanied by small grunt of annoyance.

When the Spectre moved into a room with a heavy weapon, she completely disregarded what Miranda told her to do. Instead of equipping herself with the missile launcher, the stubborn woman stuck with her pistol. From her high vantage point, she had a clear view of the group of mechs as they entered through the door in a group. Miranda thought she heard what sounded like a self-satisfied chuckle before Shepard began taking out each enemy, one by one.

"Took your sweet time, Commander. Hurry, we don't have time for this." Miranda snapped, bristling at the woman's disobedience. The Commander conveyed her deep distress at being scolded by completely ignoring her. Through gritted teeth, Miranda tried to issue more commands disguised as suggestions. Shepard more or less went along with it, but appeared to not care too much and moved along at her own pace. "Shepard, you're doing really great. Just keep heading to the shuttles."

"Operator Lawson, be advised that security is approaching. All Cerberus operatives are required to cooperate fully with security personnel." Marseille's mild voice reached her ears. A single glance at the holograms showed her that mechs were heading right for her. To make matters worse still, her communications link to Shepard was being broken up by interference. The mechs had been hacked to jam any comlink within a certain radius. Damn it.

"Shepard, mechs are closing in on my position. You need to get to the shuttles. I'll meet you there." Miranda had no idea how much had actually gotten through to Shepard. "That will be all, Marseille."

"Logging you out, Operator Lawson."

The Cerberus operative flexed her fingers, feeling her biotic abilities swell again. Miranda waved her omni-tool over the door, the hologram changing from red to a clear green. She prepared herself for only a second before striding through the doors to greet the mechs personally. It only took a few seconds for the group to be reduced to nothing more than a crumbled pile of charred mechanized bits and pieces. The mechs had never had a chance against her.

There was a decently sized little army of these blasted things stationed all around the facility. They were cheap, easy to find and effective as a security system. Fortunately, at least for her, they were also relatively simple to destroy. The infantrymen LOKI mechs were relentless, but, due to their basic programming, not a tactical threat. They were all straight to the point and highly predictable in combat. That made them extremely easy targets and able to be picked off by biotic attacks. She cast them aside, slammed them into the ground with bone shattering force and otherwise ripped them mechanical limb from mechanical limb. All of the time, her mind was picking away at a list of suspects. Her earlier misgivings seemed to be right on the mark. Wilson. Every scenario in her head lead right back to Wilson. He was the only anomalous factor. Her hand gripped her pistol tightly as she backed into the elevator, sending one mech crashing into others.

He threatened the entire project and was responsible for the slaughter of dozens of _her_ personnel. Those sins would not go unanswered for.

As the doors slid back, her eyes met those of the traitorous bastard himself. Her lips twisted into a look of cold disdain and anger as her pistol came right up to level with Wilson's head. He seemed absolutely shell-shocked that she was still alive, unable to tear his eyes away from her. He had just begun to realize how bad his situation was looking. The only noise he was able to make was a strangled gurgle in his throat before Miranda shot him directly between his eyes at point blank range.

A gun steadied right against her own temple. Her blue eyes rose to meet Shepard's unshaken hazel. They were in a familiar position. The realization caused wry smile to be painted on Miranda's lovely facial features. Jacob said something or another about not knowing if Wilson was really the traitor. Miranda only half thought about what she responded with before she spoke. Her focus was sharply secured on her greatest achievement.

"You." Shepard's eyes raked over Miranda's appearance, narrowing slightly in recognition. The Spectre lowered her firearm to her side, considered the woman before her for a moment and then holstered the weapon, "I shot you."

"How pleased I am that you remember." Her voice was dry. "Come then, Commander, we need to get to the shuttles."

Shepard made no move to follow her. Miranda glanced over at Jacob who mirrored her confusion. For a few moments, silence stretched between them. Incredibly, the two Cerberus operatives heard slight amused laughter coming from the woman. Blue eyes widened, bemused. Shepard walked right, only acknowledging Miranda with a heavy clap on the shoulder that threw her off balance from the unexpected force behind it.

"Knew you'd survive."

The journey in the shuttle to the Nemean Station was relatively uneventful. Miranda, unhappy about her testing being so rudely cut short, was forced to resort to asking simple questions about events from Shepard's past. Every question was received quietly and responded to tersely. Who did Shepard recommend for the Council seat? Captain Anderson. Why was Kaidan Alenko left to die on Virmire? Chose the better soldier and didn't make the decision easily. What were the names of Shepard's parents? How the hell would she know if she didn't even remember them -- that answer had been spoken in a particularly cold voice. Finally, their destination came into view.

The Nemean Station was a port available for use by Cell unless it had been designated to a particular Cell for a specific project. For the last two years, it had been designated to the Lazarus Cell and for good reason. The engineers stationed on the Nemean had been working exceptionally hard in order to create a replicate of the Normandy with some improvements. From the most recent update she had received from The Illusive Man, the ship was all ready to go and the engineers were damn proud of themselves.

Once inside, Shepard paused and observed the place with wariness. Understandable, given their history. It was surprising enough that the woman had not already tried to plaster their blood on the walls. It appeared that the Commander had reigned in her violent impulses... at least for the moment. Miranda dismissed Jacob quietly, wanting to take Shepard to meet The Illusive Man. When she requested that Shepard follow her, the other woman simply gazed after her with a blank expression before finally falling into step next to her. Her expression remained passive and almost bored as she strode into the communications room.

A minute of scanning later and they were facing The Illusive Man himself. Almost himself.

"Ah, Commander Shepard." A cloud of smoke floated away from the man's face, a perpetual smirk playing around his lips. He offered nothing more than a polite smile that Miranda, his most valued Cerberus operative. It stung.

"You are... The Illusive Man?" Shepard's expression was unreadable, eyes narrowed into sharp slits. Her face twisted into an expression of disdain and she scoffed, "What, didn't feel like a more personal meeting?"

"Simply a precaution. But, we have much to discuss, Shepard."

"Commander Shepard." Her voice had deepened, hard and suspicious. "The men and women of my crew -- my krantt are the only ones who can call me by anything else. You are part of neither. Now, what the hell do you want with me. Do you plan on shooting me or should I just shoot this one again? Don't think she'll get away with another scratch this time."

Miranda tensed her muscles as she turned to see what the woman was talking about. A pistol was casually aimed at her side. Damn it, why hadn't she kept a closer eye on Shepard?

"Unnecessary, Commander Shepard. I simply desire to impress upon you the severity of the threat that is facing humanity right now. The Reapers." He didn't even seemed phased. Of course, he didn't. That would give Shepard an advantage. Miranda accepted that even if she didn't like the feeling of being disposable. "Cerberus truly is not as evil as you have been programmed to believe, Commander Shepard. We really have much in common. We are working for the betterment and security of humanity. We are are the same side. The only thing that is different is our methodology. For instance, Cerberus brought you back to life. The Alliance abandoned you after the explosion. They scattered your... crew. I believe your closest advisor, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams has since been promoted. Now, she's Operations Chief Williams. The highest ranking soldier in her family since her grandfather. Her father would be proud."

Miranda knew exactly what The Illusive Man was doing. It was a simple display of his power in the form of knowledge. It was something like a display of tusks or bulk among male animals back on Earth. Probably on other planets as well. She was not well-versed in xenobiology, however. That happened to be one of the subjects that she didn't have a vast pool of knowledge about. Her knowledge of other of natural flora and fauna of other planets extended to what she could hunt -- only if necessary for survival -- and where to shoot it. Shepard had no reaction to anything that he said until Ashley Williams was mentioned. An odd expression flickered over her features before her face settled back into a mask of bored annoyance.

"And your point? Why would I be interested in any of this? What reason do you have for me staying with this organization?" Shepard queried flatly.

"Ah, well, Miranda was correct about this matter, then. To appeal to your obviously krogan nature, just consider the odds of winning against a massive fleet of Reapers. Don't think of the disappearing colonies. Think of the battle. You could try to learn about your enemy on your own with the Alliance with absolutely nothing to go on... or you could work with the best in the galaxy at Cerberus and be backed with every resource you could ever need for this mission." That was the right approach. Shepard was much akin to a lion stalking around a gazelle. Interested and keenly focused. Not quite to the point of killing yet. She just needed a little push.

"How about we make an arrangement. A test run to see if this is worth your time. If you don't find anything on this mission, you're free to go anywhere you choose to. Go to Freedom's Progress, see what you can find out. If there's nothing of interest; nothing related to the Reapers and who is taking the colonists, you can go." His words were measured carefully. The deal seemed to be fair enough, in Shepard's opinion. The stubborn woman consented to The Illusive Man's terms. Miranda felt her throat tighten and nerves rising. As much as she respected and admired the Illusive Man, she still hated to be ignored. A juvenile sentiment birthed from her father's perpetual disapproval and lack of affection.

"It seems, Cerberus, that you're under my command." What? Oh, yes, of course. The Illusive Man would place them under Shepard's authority. While she really didn't enjoy that fact, it wasn't something that she could change. Miranda pressed her lips into a thin, grim line and then forced that into something like a smile. A displeased smile, but still recognizable for what it was. The Illusive Man was rarely, if ever, wrong when he orchestrated plans. Miranda could only hope that this was the case with the Freedom's Progress mission. A lot depended on Shepard agreeing to cooperate fully with Cerberus. Everything was counting on it. Everything.

Sorry I didn't address all of the reviewers and such in the last chapter! I was really speeding to get it up and completely forgot! My mistake, but thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and added( this story/me to alerts and/or favorites. I sincerely appreciate it, I do. Again, I'm really eager to get this up, so the AN will be cut short. In any case, thank you so much to HyperiontheWatcher (for adding ISI to favorites and story alert), gpelous (for adding ISI to favorites and story alert), vampireprincess88 (for adding this story to story alerts), MasterYuri666 (for reviewing. God, I hope they let her be part of the squad again in ME3. I always like her too!), wolvesorrow (for reviewing. Yes, I do have the Firewalker DLC. I love that little hovercraft.), dyslecksec (for adding to story alert. like the name, man!), ultima-03 (for story alert!), SgtKang (for adding to story alert), Tolk600 (When my Shep met Ashleyon Horizon, I saw her point, yes, but I just didn't care because I so desperately wanted her back on my crew. But... then she left. And I was like.... CURSE YOU ALLIANCE!), paxm (for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying my expansions onto Massverse), SXM MelChan (for reviewing. I'll always choose Ashley. Kaidan just doesn't click with me.), The Modern Crusader (for story alert and favorite stories), Dio96 (for author alert! Thank you!), Avarenda (for reviewing), wolvesorrow (I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! I'm really looking forward to writing the ME2 universe. Yeah, she'll get it eventually! She's going to have a tough time at first, but Shepard will adjust!), Damien of the Shadows (for adding to story alert), kawesome86 (for adding to story alert). Thank you all very, very, very much! I really enjoy reading your thoughts on how I'm doing and will consider any suggestions you have or anything you'd like to see. If I can incorporate it smoothly, I will do my best to. Thank you all again!


	8. The Pariahs

_"Is that... Are you really... Shepard? I thought... I thought you were gone..." The choked, disbelieving voice tugged at her, drew her in. From her crouched position with omni-tool ready to bring up her combat drone, Chiktikka vas Paus, her arms fell and went limp from shock._

The Commander kicked the wall absently, gazing out at the great void. The investigation of Freedom's Progress had been a trying experience that ended with The Illusive Man getting exactly what he wanted: her cooperation. Yes, she was far more interested in the grand prospect of a mission that was almost sure to kill her. Shepard thrived on being given the impossible. In fact, her entire military career had been built on her uncanny ability to succeed where others had failed. At the meeting with The Illusive Man, she had hidden her thoughts about the Alliance's betrayal. She had served them loyally since she was eighteen and their betrayal was... bothersome. More than that, dishonorable. A clan's Khan wouldn't betray valued warriors. In fact, such an act had never been heard of among krogan. Powerful warriors were far too important. They were responsible for making a clan strong. Only the strongest and most savage of warriors were honored by being allowed to mate.

Her fist clenched tightly.

Bastards. Shepard was not one to take kindly to such an act of treachery. Forgiveness of that betrayal was not an option. Damn the Alliance. Even as her smoldering rage boiled just beneath the surface, she thought of one particular Alliance soldier. Okay. She didn't hate all of the Alliance, just most of the sniveling traitors. Ashley wasn't like that. Ashley had always been loyal.

A familiar feeling demanded to be recognized, but she pushed it away. It had haunted her persistently when she lived on Hito, before she joined Laren's little gang. It had haunted her for years during the beginning of her military career. It was loneliness. She was alone. For all of their territorial instincts and aggression, krogan were, in fact, a social race. The average krogan did not enjoy being without his or her krantt. Shepard was no different. Her krantt was gone; scattered in the winds of time. Either she had to rebuild another krantt or simply remain on her own. Balor had never taught her how to go about assembling an entirely new krantt. Krogan typically kept their krantts for life. Fallen kranttmates were even honored after death.. Because of that, they were not assembled quickly and easily. It took time to grow to trust a kranttmate. Once the bond had been formed, nothing could sever it. Nothing but betrayal. Balor had been confident that she would build up a formidable krantt of her own.

She had.

Now they were gone.

What was she supposed to do?

_The reunion with Tali had been the highlight of her brief, renewed existence. After commanding for the disturbed quarian Veetor'Nara to be allowed to return to the Migrant Fleet, Shepard had taken Tali aside briefly to talk to her. Miranda had not looked pleased at being so readily waved away, but complied with her usual, "Understood, Commander." Jacob had remained silent and acknowledged with a stiff salute before moving to stand with his Cerberus superior. With that, both had effectively been pushed from her mind. Her focus had zeroed in on Tali._

_"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya... or is it something else now?" A slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Shepard was aware of the customs of quarians after they completed their Pilgramage. Tali and she had spent hours talking about her people and Shepard had readily listened to everything she had to say. Shepard felt... pride. She was proud of the woman standing before her. Shepard felt affectionate towards her. Perhaps it was how she would have felt towards a younger sister. Two years had developed Tali greatly. Her body was slender and well-defined, her voice had lowered from that formerly higher note, and she seemed to have been given a new environmental suit to signify her place as a mature adult. Not just that, but she had been put in charge of her very own mission._

_"Tali'Zorah vas Neema, actually... thanks to you, Shepard." Her exotic voice was familiar. Comforting, in a way. She had missed Tali when she left. It didn't seem like such a long time for her. After all, her body had been mostly charred for months then asleep for the remainder of her stay on the Lazarus Station. "The Admiralty Board hailed me as some sort of hero because of the geth data you gave me... The celebration was unnecessary, of course, but even my father..."_

_Her voice faltered and she allowed the rest of the sentence to die away. Shepard knew what she was talking about. They had spent a lot of time together and Tali admitted that she almost didn't know if her father was proud of her; if he loved her. At the time of discussing that, Shepard hadn't know what else to say apart from saying that Tali's father would be, "...a damn fool for not being proud of you. You're a true genius, Tali, and a loyal kranttmate." She hadn't been sure if Tali had recognized just how much of a compliment that was by krogan standards._

_"Tali," The masked face looked up at Shepard, "I need people I can trust for what I'm doing, Tali. You know that I trust you. You're a part of my krantt. You could come with me. Help keep an eye on the Cerberus cheerleader so she doesn't get any smart ass ideas to plant a control chip in my skull. It could be like it used to..."_

_The young woman took a slight step back and, when she responded, her firm voice was colored by regret, "Shepard, I have a mission to see through. It's very important. I can't just leave... Not even for you. Perhaps, when it is all over, we'll be able to work together again... Right now, I must leave. Veetor must return to the Fleet immediately... Goodbye, Shepard. I... I've missed you." Shepard was not angry at the rejection to her proposal. In fact, she admired the quarian for remaining loyal to the mission at hand -- her mission. Tali'Zorah could be a great leader; a great warrior, one day. She was already headed down that path._

"Commander."

_Shepard had stared after Tali long after she had returned to her ship._

"Commander, are you daydreaming about me again?"

_Miranda had come over a cleared her throat in an obvious bid for her attention so that she could say something or other. The Commander didn't give a damn about what she had to say at the moment. She was fully expecting some sort of passive-aggressive reprimand for allowing Veetor to return to the fleet with the remaining members of Tali's crew. Because of that, Shepard had promptly turned and walked right by her second-in-command as though she didn't exist. From behind her, the cheerleader's frustrated exhalation of air was audible and obvious. It made her smirk._

"Aw, come on, Commander. I'm not that distracting am I? I know I'm amazing and all, but this is just sad."

Shepard blinked, finally realizing that Joker was trying to talk to her. Having not heard anything else he had said, she looked up at the ceiling and called, "What was that, Joker?"

"We're en route to Purgatory, Commander. ETA is ten minutes. Miranda wanted me to inform you that if would be a good time to suit up." His voice was grudgingly respectful when he mentioned the Cerberus officer. Shepard rolled her eyes and reluctantly told him that he would oblige the request. Both The Illusive Man and Miranda had explicitly suggested that they should go find Mordin Solus and Archangel on Omega right away. So, Shepard had readily declared that they were going to pick up Jack from Purgatory. Miranda had bristled, but said nothing.

She remained by the window for a few more moments. Finally, she tore her eyes from the abyssal darkness and began to pull on her hardsuit. Piece by piece, she secured the armor into place. It wasn't her old Alliance armor. In fact, it was probably leagues better than that hardsuit. Despite that, it still felt unfamiliar and almost hung awkwardly on her body. Every time she looked at it, an wave of anger rose in her chest and spilled out.

"Ah, Commander, there you are." Miranda forced something like a smile onto her features. Shepard did not attempt to reciprocate. Putting on false civility would achieve absolutely nothing. It was better to just act just as she felt. "Warden Kuril will be expecting us. Is there a particular team you would like to bring with you, Commander?"

Shepard narrowed her eyes at the woman. Miranda was damn well aware that there were no other readily qualified people to go with her apart from herself and Jacob. She did not like being cornered into any decisions. She had slaughtered people -- many, possibly hundreds of people -- for lesser sins than that. That was a behavior that the Alliance had not been pleased with, but also hadn't deemed necessary to try to rectify. They had made that concession for her because of her impressively sterling, blood spattered combat and mission records. Her savage methods had never actually been called into question by the Alliance because she managed to get the job done, quickly and thoroughly. Had she been a lesser soldier, there was no doubt in her mind that she would have been condemned for her brutality and dismissed from the military long ago.

"Joker," She called, not moving her eyes from Miranda.

"Yeah, Commander?"

"Suit up, you're going with me to retrieve Jack." Miranda's face was priceless at the very suggestion. That was all that Shepard had wanted to achieve. She wanted to see those blue eyes widen in shock, delicate eyebrows furrow, lips slightly part. The Commander's lip curled snidely.

"You must enjoy the music of my lovely bones snapping. Would you like me to waltz as well?"

"Point taken, Joker. Miranda, I guess I'm stuck with you then." She didn't wait for Miranda's response, but heard that familiar sigh of discontent. It was obvious that the Project Operator in charge of her resurrection must be thinking of that wonderful control chip that she never was allowed to implant. Until she saw reason to do otherwise, Shepard had no reason not to endlessly screw around with the woman. It was an outlet for the chronic ill feeling that had plagued her since her awakening. The Normandy gave a gentle jolt as it docked. Without even a glance back at Miranda or Jacob, Shepard started for the airlock. She needn't look behind her to know that she was being closely followed by the two Cerberus operatives.

The moment she stepped into Purgatory, her eyes studied her surroundings severely. Her footsteps slowed as she neared a tall turian in a navy blue hardsuit. A wary chill crawled up her spine before splintering off to dissolve into her bloodstream. The Warden was eyeing her. It wasn't just to size her up. There was some other motivation behind that gaze on her. Her eyes darkened violently, focusing sharply on interpreting the man's face. That look in his eyes was eerily familiar.

"Please remove all of your weapons and hand them over to my soldiers, Commander Shepard." The deep flanging voice sounded cultured and disarming. It was enough of a trigger to make her draw her pistol.

"Like hell." Her tone was low, almost a growl. Behind her, Shepard heard the familiar clicking of other guns being prepped for combat. Even though she didn't trust the them -- either of them -- it was good to know that they wouldn't shoot her in the back. Well, not at the moment, anyway. More than likely, they were simply doing the jobs that The Illusive Man paid them to do. Warden Kuril smiled, completely ignoring the drawn weapons. Given a cut in their pay, she was sure that they would not hesitate to put a hole through her skull. Some, such as the yeoman Kelly Chambers, may suggest that she was just being a pessimist. As Ashley once said, "A pessimist is what an optimist calls a realist." That statement had always held true.

"Well, keep your weapons then, Commander. I'm quite certain that my men would be able to subdue a trio of armed visitors. Come then, I must tell you about your purchase... unless you wish the details to be a surprise?" He had turned his back on them. Even as his soldiers holstered their firearms, Shepard found herself frozen to the spot, her grip tightening on her gun. However, there wasn't much she could do without a tangible threat. Wordlessly, the Spectre returned her weapon to its previous resting place on her back. She was not happy about not being able to immediately shoot them. It was a sound move to not immediately fire, she acknowledged that, but it didn't mean she didn't want to anyway.

Kuril proudly gave a brief tour of his facility. While crossing an transparently armored walkway, a couple of prisoners passed by each other under the watchful eyes of a Blue Suns mercenary. One individual bumped shoulders with the others as he passed by. Both bodies turned, rigid and aggressive. A fist rose and flew forward. It took only seconds for synthesized biotic bubbles encircled each prisoner and wrenched them high into the air, far apart from each other. This, according to Kuril, was their minor disciplinary system. They would be suspended there until they calmed down and each would be escorted back to his cell by a pair of soldiers. The turian then brought them by another see-through walkway, then another, then another. He explained the purpose of each room and the procedure of the Blue Suns personnel within. Finally, he turned and gave a cordial bow of the head before announcing that he had other business to attend to.

"Commander, if you could proceed into the room over there," A technician smiled from where he stood at a monitor before faltering slightly at the frigid reception to his cheerfulness, "Uh, O-Officer Lawson and Mr. Taylor, if you could please go discuss some problems with the Cerberus payment. There have been a few discrepancies in the funds that were transferred and it is imperative that these problems are corrected as soon as possible. If I may, I am of the opinion that the fabled Commander Shepard can tackle a bit of paperwork on her own."

Shepard, feeling challenged, waved the Cerberus operatives away. It was just some form or other that she needed to fill out. Nothing serious. From behind her came the passing sounds of FENRIS mechs, but she thought nothing of it. They had passed dozens of synthetic canine FENRIS and infantrymen LOKI mechs patrolling about with their organic Blue Suns counterparts. She neared the door to the next room, feeling only slightly less tense than she had earlier. That look that had been on Kuril's face wouldn't leave her mind. Her consciousness refused to allow the subject to drop until she identified why that expression had been familiar.

The door opened to a compact and empty cell. Shepard stopped dead in her tracks. Oh, hell.

"What the hell is this?" Her voice came out as a low growl. Now that she looked behind her, she saw that the technician had sealed the door and a pack of FENRIS were stalking towards her ominously with their implanted tasers sparking. From outside, she heard a faint commotion. Scuffling, a bang, shouting, the sound of shots being fired.

"Business is business, Commander. It's nothing personal. I have simply discovered that selling you is far more profitable than selling to you. Please, don't make this any harder than it needs to be. Your companions will be escorted back to the ship without you even though they have chosen to be... resistant." Kuril's smooth voice was still polite. Shepard's hatred for the turian multiplied exponentially, her rage simmering just beneath the surface. It had been foolish to relax at all. She never should have split up from her team, no matter how she felt about them. She knew what that look on his face had been now. It had been the same expression that Consultants on Hito had worn when picking out children to kidnap or buy. It was the expression that Shepard herself had been subjected to more than a few times during her brief life on her birth planet. The expression had been one of appraisal; a quick mental estimate of how much she would be able to be sold for. It had always been a greatly disturbing look to see one someone's face.

Shepard was not an idiot. She knew when she was outnumbered. Her krogan teachings looked scathingly on warriors who surrendered. Surrender was not an option. Her pistol was in her hand before she had any clear thought of having drawn it. The FENRIS mechs came closer, sparking even more fiercely as they fully readied their tasers. Her combat shields glowed to life. Her gun made a sound like a rapid series of explosions as she fired shot after shot at the technician and then the mechs. With an abrupt grunt, the tech crumpled to the floor. The leading FENRIS sprang towards her and she shifted her stance for more stability and lowered her torso slightly. Tensing her muscles, Shepard lashed out and seized the front legs of the mech as it leapt through the air to knock her to the ground and smashed it as hard as she could into another FENRIS. The rest of the synthetic 'pack' had taken that moment to charge her all at once, tasers hissing viciously.

Another loud bang from outside of the room.

Shepard braced herself against the bursts of electricity that were almost assuredly about to spark through her body. Then it came. The first paralyzing shock that jumped into her body followed by the heavy blow of a FENRIS knocking her to her knees. She forced herself to overcome the debilitating effects of the mech's amplified taser. Then came a second shock and drove her back to the ground, rigid and with muscles wracked with spasms that she couldn't stop. Then another blow. Another shock. Another solid hit.

"It's been pleasant doing business with you, Commander Shepard." The sound of the turian's voice made her anger flare. However, she wasn't superhuman. Unfortunately, she had limits just as every other human being did. The FENRIS, having withdrawn their weapons from their immobilized target, bounced away as though they were living, breathing dogs looking for a treat as a job well done. The room darkened. The noise muted as her body began to shut down from the overwhelming exhaustion and weakness that consumed her electrically ravaged body. That omnipresent rage boiled her blood, enveloped her organs and assimilated with her very muscles. A hoarse growl tore from her throat as she faded into darkness.

"Commander."

_"Commander... Skipper, can we talk?" Shepard's gaze rose from her datapad to rest on the door. Ashley, clad in her plain military issued civilian clothing, waited uncertainly just inside of her doorway. She was fidgeting more than she usually did. Her self-assured confidence -- usually so clearly displayed on her features -- was gone at the moment. It had retreated and was waiting for a more appropriate time to make itself known once more._

_"No need for titles, Ash." Shepard shrugged, waving her inside with a brief smile. Around Ashley, she had begun to smile more and more. They were different than the ones she showed Tali and Wrex. Wrex saw the near arrogance in her smirks and laughter derived from being krogan raised as a warrior, a fighter craving newly drawn blood. She and the aged krogan shared much in common apart from the same clan. Their personalities interacted together seamlessly. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya brought out a sort of protectiveness in her. It was powerful and endlessly persistent. She saw Tali as the sibling she had never had and felt a bond with her similar to those she had with other member's of Laren's gang on Hito. It was stronger than those relationships. "I'm no longer your superior, remember? We are aboard a stolen Alliance military vessel."_

"Shepard, can you hear me? Get up. We need to get to Jack."

_"Skip... You know damn well that we did what was necessary. The Alliance wasn't going to stop Saren and neither was the Council. We're the only ones who realize just how big of a threat Saren and Sovereign are!" Her voice was firm as she strode over to her. Her hand reached out, brushing her superior's arm lightly before awkwardly and hurriedly pulling away again. "You have the loyalty of everyone in your crew. You have my loyalty... O Captain, My Captain."_

_Ever since Ashley had been revealed to liking poetry, Shepard had found herself more and more accessing the extranet in order to look up poets that Ashley had mentioned or quoted. It wasn't something she did openly. Commander Shepard, the exemplary engineer, the first human Spectre, one of the top graduates of the N7 program, the captain of the Normandy.... was struggling to understand even simple poetry. Even after floundering through dozens of poems and failing to understand any of them, Shepard had been too damn stubborn to just leave it alone and continued to try. It wasn't combat, though, Combat was easy for her. Poetry was just built of words. Words strung together in rhymes and nonsense. Empty words. Meaningless. She had a vague recollection of one poem that had to do with the phrase that Ashley had just quoted._

_"No more Captain or Commander or any of that, bekannte. You can just call me Shepard... or Savannah, if you prefer. Pick your poison." Shepard surprised herself at the suggestion to use her first name. Ashley looked just as shocked. A splash of crimson painted the otherwise light skin on her collarbone. Gradually, the splash became a wave and washed up neck and touched her face to turn it a light red. The reaction to her words was dumbfounding and Shepard studied her companion with curiosity. Why on Earth had Ashley's skin flushed after that simple sentence? Perhaps she was simply uncomfortable with the shameless disregard for the chain of command._

_That must be why._

_Somehow, that explanation wasn't satisfactory. It was never satisfactory. There was something she was missing._

"Commander!"

Her vision was blurry; the room blindingly bright and filled with a scarlet glow. The station alarms were all howling urgently.

"Good, get up." Miranda sounded completely unconcerned. Jacob, on the other hand, appeared unnecessarily concerned. She frowned as she shook her head in an attempt to clear the fog from her mind.

"Damn turian." Shepard muttered, feeling enraged that she had let herself be caught like that. As she rose to her feet, muscles protesting from the earlier abuse, her eyes focused on the previously locked down door. Every cell in her body demanded that she spill blood after that shameful takedown. Now, she had no choice but to redeem herself by slaughtering the one responsible for her sorry defeat. Obviously, Shepard had been dead too long. She must had fallen out of practice to have let that happen. After a glance back at Miranda and Jacob, she drew her pistol into her hands and started out of the room.

Kuril would die screaming.

Two biotics -- one particularly advanced -- and an top-ranked engineer overwhelmed the small groups of Blue Suns mercenaries as they charged into view. It would have made far more sense for them to try to overtake them by using their vast numbers. Instead, they opted to attack them in small groups of a dozen or less. Seeing as Shepard had just complicated their lives by allowing the most dangerous inmate on the station out of cryogenic freezing.

Jack, it turned out, was not a male as everyone had expected.

From what they could see, it was.... obvious, to say the least. Her gender could not be mistaken. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jacob turn his head away. With a stifled noise of disbelief, she kicked aside the deceased technician's body and proceeded through the next door. Her gun was always held before her, and her footsteps were quiet from practiced stealth. Stealth was something that krogan, wearing well over a ton when equipped with armor, never seemed to manage successfully. As the only human in a krogan colony, Shepard had naturally ended up being the stealthiest individual there.

Jack's release had resulted in utter anarchy aboard Purgatory.

A calm feminine voice came across the speak systems and informed everyone of mass casualties resulting from the loss of life support in several sectors of the station. The escaped inmates had ganged up on guards and stripped them of everything in their possession: smokes, credit chits, grenades, guns and -- if they found ones that even remotely fit -- hardsuits.

While it took out some of their enemies, it also presented the three-man team with another problem. The inmates fired on anything that moved. They killed each other, killed the guards, and destroyed the smaller mechs. Shepard sent out her battle drone, Urdnot Balder, in order to gain extra assistance when the situation turned against them.

Their biggest problem -- literally speaking -- came in the form of a heavy YMIR mech. With its shields and armor intact, Shepard's hacking expertise was worthless. It all but ignored that Urdnot Balder even existed and kept its focus on the organic enemies before it. The only comforting fact about the appearance of the stomping mech and its missiles was that it must have meant that Kuril was getting desperate.

Even though it was a large, hardy machine before them, it was still just a machine. It lacked the capacity to improvise and employ tactics in its assault. Jacob, holding true to his image of being a breed of white knight, kept up his fire and moved away from the two women. It presented them with the opportunity to rain heavy fire on the mech's broad back without having to worry about being blown up by its missiles. After some time, the mass effect shields around the mech sputtered and died away. The armor was next to fall to their persistent attack. From that point, it could be clearly seen that the condition of the bot was decaying with every shot from their weapons.

Jacob had to leap behind cover to protect himself from the blast.

Shepard emerged and pressed on without a single word to either of her squad companions.

Kuril, it turned out, had isolated himself behind a large mass effect field powered by several small junctions around the room. Even as she shot down a few mercenaries standing nearby, her eyes never left Kuril. As single-minded and reckless as her modus operandi may have seemed to the well-organized, obedient pair behind her, it had never let her down before. Her krogan instilled drive pushed her through the room, took her from place of cover to the next, and demanded that she ignore every hit that slammed into, and sometimes directly through, her shields. From behind her she could hear Miranda swearing about something.

The cheerleader was probably upset that her project was being so careless after all of her work. The thought drove her even further onwards. Mercenary after mercenary fell to her gun and even to the small blade that she kept strapped to her boot (it was only after being advised by Tali that she had taken up carrying around a knife).

Jacob, on Shepard's order, pulled Kuril down from his vantage point with his biotics and dropped him to the ground after wrenching the gun from his grasp. He moved backwards, one hand on Miranda's arm to keep her from trying to go forward to grant Shepard unwanted assistance.

The blade fit comfortably in her grip and smiled with a bright glint in the red light. How fitting that the lights should be red for the bloodletting. It would have been even more fitting if they had been blue.

"I could have lived like royalty by selling you, Shepard." The turian snarled, his deep voice reverberating around the room. His eyes wouldn't move from the knife in her hands. It seemed to be bewildering to him, as though no one had decided to attack him hand-to-hand like that before. Perhaps. "Have you no honor, Shepard? I am not even allowed a gun to fight bac-"

His throat had been punctured and he gurgled on his final word. It was as though he had actually expected her to allow him to keep babbling on. What good would that have done? It would have just bored her and wasted her time. A stream of blood trickled downwards. A twist of the wrist unleashed a steady river. The pool settling at her feet was dark navy in color. The hemocyanin in turian blood was responsible for that color. The coloration was of no importance. The spilling of any enemy blood gave her immense satisfaction. A grim smile twisted her features as she wrenched the knife towards the ceiling until it burst free of the severed tissue.

Jacob made a quiet noise of disgust. Miranda was silent.

Shepard shoved the body away from herself with her foot.

"We're here for Jack. It's about time that we found her."

For the moment, her knife would go back into its sheath with the blood still coating it. When they had boarded the Normandy, she would take care to thoroughly wash it

Jack, when they found her, was just about to be shot in the back by a mercenary. A clean shot through the skull floored him and earned the psychopath's attention. Every visible inch of her light skin was decorated with brilliant, intricate tattoos... except for her face. Her features were intense and, at the moment, expressing her extreme aggression and suspicion of those in front of her.

"What the fuck do you want?" Her demand was harsh and gaze unwavering.

"For you to join my crew." Shepard idly gestured toward the Normandy outside of the window. This statement seemed to inflame the woman's suspicions further.

"You're Cerberus. Why the fuck would I go with you? What, do you think I'm stupid or something?" She snarled, scathing.

"Only if you choose stay on this ship." Shepard was in no mood to try to attempt a diplomatic or friendly resolution. Jack would either come join her crew on the damn ship or be left to be picked up by other Blue Suns vessels. Her words were distinct and sharp when she next spoke, "I'm not here for Cerberus. I don't give a damn about them. I'd like for you to join my crew, but if you don't decide, I'm leaving you for the Blue Suns to pick up. Are you in or not?"

Jack narrowed her eyes, flexing her hard muscles as she prepared to either attack or flee. Fleeing seemed unlikely given the woman's personality. The tattooed individual studied the appearance of her possible opponent. Her gaze drifted over the blue liquid that coated her hands, knife boot, and trailed across her hardsuit armor.

"Who're you wearing?"

"Warden Kuril." A smirk.

A pause.

"You give me access to all Cerberus files on me. Everything." It was a demand, not a request. Shepard remained unaffected.

"Done." Miranda bristled and started to protest before Shepard silenced her with a simple, human gesture that made use of her middle finger. The Commander could almost feel those blue eyes searing the flesh on the back of her neck. It made her smile.

Getting back to the Normandy was easy. The team had grown to include three biotics and, as should be expected, each one of them tossed any and everything aside. Jack took the greatest joy in the spirit of the fight, though. Always Jack. She was the first to storm forward and the last to part with the bodies they left in their wake. The convict lifted stragglers from the Blue Suns security forces and slammed them into wall until their bones snapped audibly.

Her enthusiasm made Shepard smile

Once back on the ship, Jack proved to be delightfully capable of making jabs at Miranda right along with her new Commander. It ended with the cheerleader having to force a smile and 'politely' take her leave. It wasn't long after that Jack declared that she would going to settle down in the lowest deck of the ship to avoid foot traffic by other members of the crew.

"EDI," Shepard focused on the little platform attached to the wall. There were small stages like that built all over the ship so that EDI could pop up whenever she was called or if she just wanted to advise a member of the crew about something. The little blue sphere popped up and, as expected, waited politely and quietly for whatever it was that Shepard had to ask. Instead of heading over to Omega to pick up Archangel and Mordin Solus, Shepard wanted to go fetch the krogan before finally doing what The Illusive Man wanted her to do. "Tell me about Herrgott Okeer. Where is he right now?"

"Lord Okeer is currently on the planet Korlus in the Imir System." EDI reported mildly.

"Tell Joker to set a course for Korlus immediately."

"Understood. Logging you out, Shepard."

The Commander stood silently, staring at where EDI had just been seconds ago. Herrgott Okeer, the mad, brilliant krogan who had a lifespan that seemed to be able to stretch on to the very ends of space itself. Okeer was not held in high esteem by his fellow krogan. In fact, he was considered a disgrace to the entire species. Balor had been particularly harsh about the man and spat at the mention of his very name. He had made absolutely no attempts to cure the genophage, instead he just focused on trying to strengthen the species with some covert research of his. His determination to ignore the genophage had outraged his sterile kin. Wrex had also had words to say against Okeer. He considered him to be little more than an absolute madman with no true purpose. After all, he had abandoned his kind by ignoring the sterility plague and turning his back on the innate krogan lust for battle.

For every fault, Shepard still felt anxious to get a krogan in her crew. A krogan, no matter how mad, would be someone she could relate to. She wanted the familiarity that had come from her relationship with Wrex. Her hope was that it would alleviate that aggravating sense of loss and solitude that pressed in on her more and more every day. No matter what they said or did, these people were not her crew. They could never even hope to come close to what her crew was. The thought weighed heavily on her, but she pushed it aside the very best that she could manage. Humans were such emotional creatures. Yes, krogan had emotions, but they never displayed such a wide range. Showing to many emotions was considered weak by krogan clansmen.

It was another reason that the krogan hadn't much approved of her. It had been a good thing that it hadn't taken her too long to learn that she couldn't show a full range of normal human emotions because it would have gotten her killed. She was finding it far easier to stay detached and almost careless around her crew with the Cerberus operatives. Miranda was amusing to torment and always took the force of her frustrations. Jacob was no fun up on his mostly unsullied pedestal because he never reacted to her jabs. Kelly Chambers, with her sweet disposition, reminded her a little of Tali and, for that reason and only that reason, Shepard couldn't make herself be aggressive towards her. Joker, well, Joker was always sort of an ass. That was the very reason that Shepard liked him to begin with.

The next few days went by slowly for Shepard. She failed to get along with both Jacob and Miranda and generally didn't feel like spending too much time with Kelly because it just made her want her krantt back. Wanting her krantt back made her snappy and angry. Angrier than she was to begin with. After a few passing words with other members of the crew, Shepard ended up settling herself down in the engineering deck... with Jack. Jack was the only one willing to snap right back at her. It was a welcome change. After realizing that Shepard had no intention of leaving her alone, Jack reluctantly allowed her to stay for extended periods of time and when she finally got too tense for her to be around any longer, she said to fuck off.

"So, is it true? You krogan raised?" Shepard looked up from her omni-tool. They usually didn't talk whenever she came down to see Jack. In fact, the convict demanded that Shepard remain quiet so that she could search through the Cerberus files. This occasion was different, Jack actually sounded vaguely interested in the information about her Commander. After a smirk and a nod of confirmation, Jack continued to gaze at her intensely before settling back and breathing out audibly, "That's crazy shit. Didn't know krogan did that. First kill?"

"Five." Shepard lowered her arm slightly, her omni-tool interface vanishing.

"Four." Jack actually gave her own version of a smile. It was short lived, however. The woman leaned back and continued perusing the files, muttering angrily under her breath. Shepard didn't take offense. It was a start.

Shepard had already chosen the people that she wanted to take with her to retrieve Okeer. It had been a very quick decision that required little consideration. Jacob was no fun, as far as she was concerned, and so he was never an option for her. In contrast, Miranda was always a source of amusement. As such, the quad mates who stepped out onto the planet's surface with her were Miranda and Jack. Predictably, Miranda appeared to be less than thrilled with the situation but, since there was nothing that she could do about it, the woman forced herself to remain some air of civility. This facade of hers never failed to mold Shepard's features into a mocking sneer. However, this time, Shepard continued onwards without a single comment towards the raven-haired woman.

She moved with a single-minded drive and purpose, gun held steady in her hands. Her mind was focused on one thing and refused to allow distractions to push through. The urge to get to Okeer as quickly as possible was the motivation behind each footstep, each breath of air, and even the very beating of her heart. Where she would have usually growled something about the pitiful cowardice and false leadership of the owner of the voice that echoed from loudspeakers across the area, Shepard found herself continuing by without any comment.

The strategy behind her movements was simple and easy. Get through and kill everyone in the way with as little noise as possible. She was not against a good massacre to get the blood pumping, but firefights would slow their progress. Shepard was not in the mood to be halted at every guard post. The first group of mercenaries were standing around, guns at the ready, but obviously bored and inattentive. Her gun returned to the holster, resting heavily on her back. The knife came out again, feeling cool and innocently sleek in her grip as she approached the nearest Blue Sun. An arm looped around his throat and wrenched backwards quickly to reveal a common vulnerable point in human made armor while the other. His blood cascaded over her skin in a brilliant wave. She stifled his last attempts at making noise by crushing his throat even harder with her arm. When he stopped fussing around and finally stilled, Shepard lightly lowered him to the ground to avoid making too much commotion by just dropping him.

His companions were felled by Jack and Miranda's quick use of biotics to slam them into the ground with enough force to kill them instantly. It cleared the way and enabled the small team to push on towards their destination, leaving a pile of crumpled, bloody masses in their wake. The strategy worked for a decent amount of time and, with the assistance of her knife, Shepard found that her thirst was being steadily quenched by the warm, red fluid that she drew from each victim. It nourished her determination and sated her savage appetite for brutality. While Jack seemed to take great pleasure in her Commander's modus operandi, Miranda remained silent.

Much to the Spectre's displeasure, her plan suddenly had to be discarded and replaced by the back-up. Blue Suns had finally been alerted to the presence of intruders. Their leader was screaming at her forces over the speaker systems, demanding that they desist being incompetent at once and just kill the intruders already because there were only three of them. Shepard finally was forced to use her pistol for the first time that day. It was exceptionally disappointing. Everything had been going so smoothly. She was coated with the blood to prove it. When the mercenaries first caught sight of her, a couple of the individuals without helmets appeared visibly shocked and shaken by the sight of their blood soaked adversary. It had not been her intention, but her appearance seemed to have acted as an unexpected psychological weapon. Shepard was normally not one who approved of such tactics in warfare. As far as she was concerned, they were used by cowards who simply didn't have the strength to face the enemy head-on.

At that moment, Shepard honestly didn't care. All that she wanted was to just get to Okeer quickly.

They didn't not porgress as fast as the Commander would have liked. Damned mercenaries came at them in wave, urged on and threatened by their hidden leader as she called out to them from wherever she was. The sound of that obnoxious, omnipresent voice began to become distracting. It was giving her a headache. In a moment of pure rage, Shepard shot every single speaker that she could see. Why couldn't the woman stop hiding behind her console and just come into the open and attack? That was how a real krogan leader -- a real warrior -- would do it. It was one of those moments where she had to remind herself that humans and krogan were different.

Shepard abruptly halted as she stepped through a door, head cocked ever so slightly as she glared at an asari standing before her. What the hell was an asari scientist doing on Korlus? Well, when she thought about the situation, it did end up seeming like rogue scientists would be more than happy to join mercenaries for the right incentive. It was likely that the young woman was working with Okeer, not directly with the Blue Suns. With narrowed eyes, Shepard's fingers twitched towards the trigger of her weapon.

"W-wait! Commander Shepard!" The cry came out as a pathetic, strangled squeak of terror. It had the desired effect; Shepard held her fire and gestured for her companions to do the same. "Y-you know me, remember? I was on Virmire! I was on Virmire, remember? I-I gave you access to Saren's private labs. You blew the whole place to hell, but I still gave you access! My name is Rana Thanoptis, y-you know me..."

"In trouble again, are you?" Shepard's words were gruff. The asari's eyes held her steadily.

"No, no, no! I wouldn't do anything to get your attention, believe me. I know how you like to do things, Shepard... I-I see you haven't changed much, have you now?" Rana's gaze dropped to the gleaming stains on her hardsuit. "Still killing everyone, got it. L-look, I'm really here for a good reason, I swear. I mean -- I know Dr. Okeer's methods may seem... extreme... he's doing his research for the right reasons though, I know he is. I know he must be working on something great."

"You don't actually know what he's working on?" Miranda spoke, sounding skeptical.

"Fucking idiot." Jack, of course.

"Oh... Well... No... Not-Not exactly. I know that he keeps breeding krogan for Jedore. He keeps terminating every subject before they complete the imprinting program, though. And even the ones that do make it out of the gestation tanks are discarded... He keeps saying that they aren't good enough; that they aren't perfect or up to his standards. That's really all that I know, I swear." Rana was noticeably edging towards the door. Her progress was halted by a pistol being pressed flat against her chest. "Please... I'll just be leaving... I won't get in any more trouble! I just need to get out of here before the sky starts falling. I know how fond you are of large scale explosions..."

When she tried to leave again, Shepard made no move to stop her. It would be a waste of time and energy to focus on the asari any longer. Her appearance had been a good sign. Okeer's lab had to be closeby for her to have so many krogan corpses littered around the room on otherwise clean tables. She was right. After climbing up a pair of ramps, the next room that they encountered indeed was the workplace of the infamous Herrgott Okeer.

There he was, standing next to another gestation tank in front of a console.

"I've been waiting for you. You took your damn time getting up here, didn't you, Urdnot?" The massive krogan didn't even both to look over at them as she spoke, still working on something concerning the interface before him. It sent a small thrill through her body to be addressed by her clan name again. Urdnot. With Wrex around, she had heard the name day after day after day. It was different now.

"Herrgott Okeer, I want you to --"

"I'm well aware of what you want. I'm familiar with Collector technology. You're fighting the Collecters. It's easy to see where this is going. You don't have to be a gehirn to put the pieces together. I'm not leaving with my prototype. That's not open for discussion. You, on the other hand, need to do something before we depart." His eyes finally turned to meet hers. "Kill Jedore. She won't make it possible for my prototype to make it out alive. At this moment, I know that she had been heavily active in the room two flights down. It holds all of my rejects for her little army. Kill them. Kill the mercenaries. Kill her."

Shepard didn't enjoy being ordered around. With anyone else, she would have retaliated coldly. This was different. A krogan superior was addressing her. The lessons instilled during her youth prevailed, turned her on her heel after a brief murmur of consent and forced her to head down to the appropriate area. Her quiet compliance with the strange krogan's orders seemed to catch Miranda and Jack completely off-guard. Miranda, knowing more about her than Jack did, seemed to be at the lesser end of the spectrum of surprise. They descended, guns prepped and ready to go from where they rested in their hands. Shepard paused outside of the door, glancing back at her squad mates in order to assess their conditions. Neither Jack nor Miranda was relaxed. They both knew that they were facing a bit of a challenge ahead. Good, that was good. Once they darted in through the door, they had to duck into cover to avoid being killed immediately. Not only was the room filled with a dozen tank-bred krogan, some number of mercenaries and Jedore, herself, but it was also home to an active heavy mech that rained missile after missile down on the area around them. That was neither a pleasant nor welcome surprise. The entire force was overwhelming.

Rather, it would have been.

The krogan, being the most mobile and immediate threat, had to be cut down by a storm of gunfire before they started on anyone else. After all, if a krogan was able to get close enough to charge, it would end up turning out very badly. A krogan weighing over a ton charging at full speed at a human who weighed a fraction of his size? A complete disaster. Shepard had had no choice but to learn how to dodge such charges. The next to fall under the hailing fire were the mercenaries. The Blue Suns were simple to shoot down and, despite their efforts, made little progress in their attempts to gain the upper hand by flanking and closing in on their location tighter. The heavy mech proved to be the most difficult enemy in the room to take down. It kept forcing the squad to relocate farther and farther away from it. Jedore was shouting something at them in the background, but Shepard was far too focused on the problem at hand to care.

"Shields are down, Commander." Miranda ducked back into cover, ejecting the thermal clip from her cartridge and replacing it with another one swiftly. Shepard had always liked that Miranda knew her away around a gun, even if she didn't much care for Miranda herself. In her opinion, the woman vouched for Cerberus far too much and gave pitiful excuses for what Shepard had seen of their projects first hand. Thorian creepers. Admiral Kahoku. The rachni. And then there was Jack. She had calmly and matter-of-factly justified the attempted enslavement of the rachni. Cerberus, apparently, had just wanted to see what could be accomplished with the use of the Thorian. Admiral Kahoku's death was completely the fault of a rogue military cell of the larger organization and could hardly be blamed on the Illusive Man. All of that sounded like absolute bullshit.

"Armor's down, boss-lady!"

"How do you like missiles being shot at you, bastard?" Shepard placed herself completely in the open, her rocket launched steadied over her shoulder as she aimed. The kickback from the missile that exploded forth forced her a step back just so that he could regain her balance. After being forced to take cover to avoid the following explosion that shook the ground beneath her feet and made her ears ring painfully, Shepard slid back into her upright position.

Jedore was the only one remaining. The perpetual anger that bathed her body swelled in her chest; it roared in her ears and colored her vision red. Jedore, the false guide who had urged her moronic troops to their deaths without a single consideration. Jedore, who so foolishly had krogan bred by a madman in order to build some sort of army. In comparison to Saren's plans for the krogan, Jedore's actions seemed like little more than a clumsy misstep; a small hiccup. The intent of the action was still the same. It was still exploitative of the krogan. Exploitation of that particular nature was not something that Shepard would tolerate or let go. It would be Jedore's greatest and final mistake.

Under her intense assault, it wasn't long until Jedore's mass effect shields began to fail her. They flickered back to life briefly, weak and piteous, before dying out altogether. It left the woman without any defenses whatsoever. No defenses save for her guns. That would not be enough to save her. No blade would be used on this occasion. Jedore had opted to wear her hardsuit without equipping a helmet. That allowed for easy access to her throat. Humans should never allow for that to happen. Humans were frail, soft, breakable. Shepard would prove just to what extent that was true. The woman snarled and fired on until the thermal clip gave out and had to be ejected. That break in attack was all that she needed to slip close to Jedore. Far too close.

Shepard wrenched the woman's arms away from her gun and stared her in the eyes. A snap, then low sound of pain ripped involuntarily from Jedore's throat. Another snap. Jedore locked her jaw tightly, unwilling to grant her enemy the pleasure of knowing how she was suffering. Her determination made Shepard smirk, amused and satisfied. Just as she began to apply excessive force to Jedore's arm, a thought came unbidden to the forefront of her mind. Ashley... What would Ashley think about this? Ashley had never been a big fan of the cruelty of her up close and personal killings. Ashley had always wanted her to just finish them off quick. She had seen horrible things done, she had said at one time, but she didn't want to see them done by her Commander because she was better than that. The memory halted her muscles. Damn it. With a growl of frustration, Shepard threw Jedore to the ground, whipped out her pistol and unloaded shot after shot into her target's skull until she finally had to eject the clip.

It was still a bloody mess, just with less suffering.

Damn it, Ashley.

Just, damn it.

Shepard brushed by Miranda without a single word. Jack was laughing to herself openly at the sight of the broken corpse.

Upon an urgent return to the laboratory, Shepard clenched her teeth as her gaze dropped to the motionless body of Herrgott Okeer lying right next to his accursed tank-bred specimen. Okeer was dead. Jedore had achieved at least that before dying. At least if she ever was able to get back to Tuchanka, it would be something to celebrate with Balor. It was a small comfort. With a stiff jaw and smoldering irises, Shepard ordered for the tank and its contents to be retrieved and taken aboard the Normandy. The trip would not be a complete loss. Even though it wasn't the krogan that she had wanted to have join, it was still a krogan. The pit in her stomach lightened slightly at the thought. It was still a krogan. Maybe she could still forge some sort of connection to him. Some sense of stable familiarity.

It gave her a strong sense of purpose once she was back on the Normandy. An obsessive desire to go open that tank. Miranda spent about half of an hour just trying to bring up why the tank should be researched and remain unopened in a Cerberus lab somewhere. The officer's uneasiness reinforced the Spectre's determination to see it opened as soon as possible. Shepard needed this. Even though she knew her desperation and loneliness was pitiful and downright shameful, it couldn't be helped. She tried and tried to force her foolish human emotions to the very back of her mind. It didn't work. It never worked anymore. It took every ounce of energy just to maintain her cold demeanor. It was worth it.

"EDI, open the damn tank."

.......................................................................

**Author's Note**: Once again, thank you all very, very much! I appreciate all of the support. Really, I really do!

Now, for adding me or this story to alerts or favorites, I thank MasterYuri666, Snakemaster (that sounds badass!), Inverness, Zathien, primedirective, Talar7Wolf, Condor green (Your name reminds me of what people call those covert military operations like Operation Rolling Thunder or whatever that was), S058 (any meaning behind the name?), Mkire, MyLittlePwnies (this made me laugh for like give minutes), ArrowMk84, RahXephon, TRAVELERAYGA, Arrin, xXTiniXTinyXTigerXx, James45, Vikin Girl, Aleksander, Pruit Igoe, Swordsman169, adhesion, thor2006 (do you have a special thor hammer?)

Reviewers!

**Condor green**, thank you very much! I'm really glad that you're enjoying it! **SgtKang**, I'm glad you like the dialogue! It's actually pretty fun to come up with, though I'm not nearly as clever or humorous as Bioware's team of writers. **Inverness**, yeah, no one seems to be able to really tell what this story is like from the description. I meant to keep it intentionally vague, though maybe it's a bit too vague! **Avarenda**, that is precisely why Shepard reacted that way. While they are not getting along (at the moment), I will make sure that Shepard comes around and stops being so damn angry all of the time. Shep had issues, though. They will be addressed eventually! **MasterYuri**, I had a lot of fun writing that intense staring scene! (I was all excited for the DLC because of the slogan that had to do with Horizon so I was like, "Hells yes, Ashley!" But then it was a fail. It made me sad.) **wolvesorrow**, she is now being even more bullheaded than she was last chapter! I'm glad that you like what I'm doing with Miranda. It's been nice to be able to build her character up more. I really wish I was able to have more dialogue with her after her mission. Well, I guess we'll just have to see if she comes back in the next game as a more in depth character (I reallllyyy hope she will!).

To everyone, this is important! From June 4th to June 26th, I will be in Canada and, therefore, unable to update during that time. You might be thinking, "Canadians have computers too, Snip!" Yes, I am aware of this silly detail! However, I will be working at a camp for the duration of my stay and won't have access to any computers at all. But, I will do my best to get another one, two or three chapters up before I go. (My self-imposed word quota makes this difficult and a long process). Cheers, everyone!


	9. The Grunt

**AN: Greetings, wonderful Readers of this story. I have the hardest time with this, hence the delay and then I got sidetracked with school and such because it's my senior year. Even so! I believe that I've accomplished everything that I wanted with this chapter. So, I hope you enjoy. - Snippax.**

The world exploded before her eyes and darkened her vision immediately. The sound of her pulsing blood was like a roaring ship in her ears.

"Get up." The words came from a distance, cutting gruffly through the haze. They rumbled from the male before her, coming out as something like a low growl. Her limbs were struggling to regain their strength. Fury at her own pitiful weakness bubbled up in her abdomen like vicious poison. Just as her weight managed to be lifted onto her arms to bring her torso off of the ground, another blunt blow sent her sprawling out again. "I said, get up, Ta'xet. The enemy will not wait for you."

"You fight like a _gemeinheit_." The unfamiliar word was spoken with such disdain that it could only have been an insult. Her heart pounded in her ears as sheer force of will propelled her back onto unsteady feet in spite of the pain that wracked every cell in her body. Still, she was without her weapon.

The simply forged blade of ancestral krogan warriors lay a little ways away. Too far away for her to get to quickly. This was where evasion came in. Her chest rose and fell with each pant, eyes fixated sharply on her assailant. This was her mentor; her guardian in a clan who despised her very existence. She was ten years of age and struggling to keep pace with the lessons being taught to krogan of equal age.

This was combat. This was Arbeiten hand-to-hand of the clans of old. Every Urdnot hatchling was taught about this art form long before they implemented it. Her past life on Hito had put her six years behind every other juvenile in the clan. Every muscle tightened as she moved herself into a familiar, solid stance that would give her the most stability. She wasn't fooling anyone, not even herself. No matter how hard she worked at this or how much she honed her skill, Ta'xet would never never match up to a krogan. The species was just too formidable to be taken down by a human.

Balor started in, the heavy movements of his body slow and deliberate but also powerful. Her fists were raised in front of her, but she knew she would never be fool enough to try to use them on a krogan. Her balled up hands would crumple on impact if she did such an idiotic thing. Learning Arbeiten was not so that she could attack krogan without a weapon. No, it was so that she could attack any other species without a weapon. It took effort not to tense her body, but to do so would not cause her reactions to be jerky and rushed, but it would also make her predictable.

Ta'xet needed to keep herself loose and calm. As long as she didn't convey any weakness, it would be okay. However, for a human so young, it was impossible. Fatigue and repressed pain made her body tremble. Even with that flaw in her body language, she managed to throw herself to the side to avoid the firm barrage of strikes aimed at her chest. Balor knew better than to aim for her head. Even when he restrained himself, there was still a danger of her skull being crushed if the attack made contact.

The grip pressed against the skin of her palm, the varren skin rough and worn from use. Her fingers wrapped firmly around the weapon as she rolled herself awkwardly to her feet. In her mind, she winced at this display of her uncoordinated, flimsy human body. A chuckle rumbled from her mentor's chest and the sound was much too close for comfort. Her reactions had been too slow, again. This was a fatal flaw in her speed as the krogan wrenched her clear off of the ground and tossed her backwards.

_"Aus der traum!" _The roar for her to pay attention was processed by her mind slowly and almost surrealistically.

The landing knocked the wind out of her adolescent body and every remainder of strength was whisked away by her gasping for oxygen. That was that. Balor ended the session wordlessly. This was how training was. Sometimes she succeeded, but more often she failed and worked herself to the bone to make herself faster and stronger. Obviously, it was something she still needed to work on.

"_Gemeinheit_," Ta'xet managed to speak finally after a few moments. Her eyes rose to the face of the krogan after she steadied herself on her feet once again. "What does that word mean? I haven't heard it before."

"It means abomination."

_**The Normandy**_**, Present**

The dim lights of the gestation tank pulsed steadily as EDI activated to process of releasing the sleeping dragon within. There was a slight pop and then soft hissing as the seal broke and the transparent door began to drop outwards at an unhurried pace. The clear liquid that served as sustenance for the tank's occupant spilled out of its confines eagerly through the growing gap between tank and door. The great mass within began to stir as it awakened.

A pair of severe blue eyes opened drowsily. They blinked once. Twice. Thick knees gave way, unsteady from having never been actively employed for movement. The figure caught itself on the floor with its hands, fingers splayed for stability. The krogan was a young male, Shepard was sure of it. His features showed as much. He appeared to be little more than a hatchling, really. Large, yes, but not quite at the size of a fully grown krogan. Wrex once mentioned that he himself had been only six feet tall when he was a juvenile, but then he began growing quickly to reach his height of eight feet and six inches. The male remained on the ground, probably taking in the smells of his surroundings. He needed a short adjustment period. Krogan adjusted quickly, though.

He rose to his feet and towered over Shepard's slight frame. Their eyes met, each studying the other in the continuing silence of the tense atmosphere. A low roar disrupted the dead air. Shepard was too close to move out of the way and to do so would show weakness. She had to prepare herself. Her readiness for the act did not make being slammed against the back wall of the cargo bay a more pleasant experience. The juvenile held her firmly so that she was essentially between a rock and a hard place.

The situation lit a fire under her veins. Her blood simmered, bubbling under her skin with barely contained indignation. This was absolutely ridiculous. She should rip off the hatchling's crest right where he stood. It took her a moment to grudgingly remember that some allowances had to be made for this tank bred. After all, he neither had an idea of who she was nor what clan she was from. Did he even know how to behave like a proper krogan?

"_Entschuldigung sie bitte. Ich bin krieger, lehrling_." Her voice was leveled and dangerous as she continued to gaze fiercely into the eyes of her assailant. The krogan continued to glare at her, his eyes uncomprehending. This was puzzling. Again she repeated herself. As a result, he pressed her body harder into the wall and remained wordless. Did he not understand his own mother tongue? That must be the case, for the third time he simply growled with irritation. "Back off. I'm your superior, hatchling."

"No." His answer was abrupt and firm. "I'm going to kill you, fleshy human. Before I do that, I need a name."

"Shepard." Her teeth were gritted. The krogan snorted derisively.

"Not your name. Mine. I need a name." Why hadn't Okeer named his favorite, perfect little tankborn before he died?

"Why the hell should I care about that, _g__emeinheit_?" There was cold venom in her words. Venom that was rejected by the intended victim. He obviously didn't recognize the derogatory terminology. Rana Thanoptis had said that she had helped Okeer develop an imprint. Something had gone unexpectedly wrong with it. This specimen was supposed to have Okeer's imprint active. However, he didn't understand his natural language. Perhaps it hadn't been included in the imprint and minor insults or the like were also neglected.

Her hand silently slipped her gun from where she had holstered it at her side for easy access. It had crossed her mind that she may need it. Slowly and smoothly, the barrel of the weapon arched towards the ceiling and towards the young krogan's abdomen. Her aiming was precise and she knew it to be the best place to shoot should the need arise.

It was easy to say that Okeer's little pet was not getting on her good side. Her eyes became slits as her grip tightened on her gun, shifting the barrel slightly. The hatchling was muttering to himself about something unintelligible because of how his purposeful growl distorted the words. Her mouth opened slightly, but the signature rush of air signaled that the door to the bay had been opened.

"Commander Shep - what the bloody hell is going on here?" The accented voice transitioned from all-business to sharp. At least Miranda would play an important role in this situation. A distraction. Shepard's eyes never left the krogan's face, waiting for that moment of inattention. The wait was not a long one for within the next moment, the unnamed hatchling turned his focus to the newcomer and her drawn gun. Shepard couldn't see her second-in-command, but there was no doubt in her mind that the woman had equipped her weapon upon seeing the situation.

The young krogan was shoved back by a sudden blast from the Spectre's weapon and momentarily seemed confused.

"Miranda, relax. The hatchling is not a threat because I have a purpose for his otherwise pointless existence." The words were harsh, as cold and edged as glass. She knew that this was a potentially delicate situation. Shepard did not like delicate. "You, Okeer's grunt, I have a reason for your life. That rage in your body, the urge for battle, I can give you a worthy opponent. If you decide to reject this offer, I will kill you where you stand."

If Miranda doubted the Commander's ability to follow through, it didn't show on her face.

"Grunt." The young krogan growled, spitting the word out without real thought. He seemed to be mulling something over in his head as he stared fixedly at Shepard through those eerily blue eyes. After a few moment that stretched on insistently until they felt like days, he spoke, "I will fight alongside you... For now, at least."

"And what should I refer to you as, hatchling?"

A pause and emotionless smile.

"Grunt."


	10. The Obligation

**I have made a video for this story located on my YouTube account. Link here: (http : / / www . youtube . com /watch?v=X9rhnTnbYW8) minus the spaces, obviously.**

Kasumi Goto was an endlessly frustrating human being. Cold, sniping comments failed to overturn that perpetual smirk that quirked her lips skyward at the corners. Acting distant and confident just drew musing observations and matter-of-fact teasing from her as she mixed drinks at the bar. Every order that came from Miranda's mouth fell on deaf ears as Kasumi blatantly ignored her commands. The accomplished thief would sip at her drink, those eyes fixed on the Cerberus loyalist's face until her words were finished. Only when the room fell silent would Kasumi say, yet again, that she only took orders from the Commander.

Annoying as it may be, Miranda could not make any crew member do anything. She was second-in-command, but that only mattered if Shepard was unable to stand for herself. And, Miranda absently gazed out of the window in her room as she took a rare break from research, Shepard had performed every task optimally. She had gone above and beyond the call of duty, had fought against dozens of geth and mercenaries and came out of the other side with a trail of blood and bodies in her wake. The Illusive Man was continuously impressed by the woman's accomplishments.

Commander Shepard had gathered together the convict Jack, the brute Grunt, the assassin Thane, the thief Kasumi, the mercenary Zaeed, the mechanist Tali'Zorah, the soldier Garrus, the scientist Mordin, herself and Jacob. They were all the best at what they did. And, somehow, Shepard had been able to gain the trust of almost all of them. At the moment, the only remaining wild cards were the krogan and the convict.

Miranda knew that Shepard had been taking frequent trips down into the depths of the ship in order to spend an inordinate amount of time with the tattooed psychopath. On the occasions that Jack ventured up to Kasumi's compartment to partake in the consumption of alcohol with the rest of the crew, she would send these _looks_ at Shepard. They were unreadable, as many of Jack's expressions were, but they grated on her nerves. Spasmodically, Miranda felt her fingers curl into a fist at the thought.

A lack of trust, of course, had to be the reason that this irritated her so. These looks, these aggravating looks sent from Jack to Shepard made her feel uneasy. They were knowing and spoke of something that Miranda couldn't put clear meaning to. Jack could be a problem if she chose to be. Spending so much time together could not be a good influence on already unconventional Commander. Of all of the people that Shepard would make friends with, never had she imagined Jack would be at the top of that list.

There was also the added frustration that Jack and Shepard had made a sport of pushing her buttons. Whenever the two of them went off on trips as a unit with Shepard, Miranda was forced to endure endless jabs and jokes at her expense. Both, it seemed, thought her anger was funny to witness. Still, even though Shepard delighted in antagonizing her, Miranda was not blind. She would catch Shepard gazing at her every time that she lost her temper and became blunt and harsh. Shepard would watch her. Even in the mess, Shepard's eyes would occasionally linger just a little too long, indicating that it was more than a casual glance. But what?

_Mi-ran-da, you're named after a big rock that floats around 'your-anus'._

Jack loved to use that adolescent phrase to wear down her nerves.

"Lawson." The voice made her start uncharacteristically, hand flying to her gun. Before her fingers could so much as touch the weapon, a hand was secured around her wrist, curious eyes looking down at her under a furrowed brow. "Miranda, it's just me."

"Commander Shepard." Miranda relaxed, allowed Shepard to continue to grasp her arm. When Shepard didn't release her immediately and the contact stretched on for a good minute, she felt something uneasy build in her abdomen. Almost as though she read Miranda's thoughts, the Commander dropped her wrist and smirked slightly.

"Before you threatened to blow my head off, I came in to tell you that you're accompanying me when we dock at the port of Collombya along with Tali. I thought you would want to prep beforehand." Seeing that Miranda was about to ask a question, Shepard cut her off before she could speak, "We're going to... look into a situation. An old associate contacted me after hearing that rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. We'll be arriving in an hour. I expect you to be suited up and waiting in forty-five."

Without waiting for any sort of response, Shepard turned on her heel and exited without another word. Of course, Miranda had become used to being addressed in such a way. She and Shepard didn't quite get along as well as the Commander did with certain members of the crew. Shepard's relationship with Grunt was tense at the best of times, Tali trusted in her Commander and friend completely and without question with a loyalty that made a few eyebrows raise, Jack had quickly become something of a 'playmate' for Shepard - someone that she was more than happy to go out to bars on various planets with and drink with. For someone with such a serious mission, Shepard had no problem with stopping the Normandy to give the crew R&R time frequently.

This was something that made Mordin, Garrus, Jacob and Thane slightly disgruntled. Not to mention herself. There was much to do, time was not a luxury that they could afford. However, the way that Shepard silenced vocal complaints was to tell them to enjoy themselves, because any moment could be their last. Take nothing for granted. Enjoy each drink as though it was the last thing they would ever consume. Mordin would accept the argument, but remain onboard of the ship along with Thane and Jacob. Garrus would shrug and join the festivities.

The time sped by and Miranda found herself carefully equipped with weapons, rolling her shoulders as she stepped next to the quarian where they waited by the door. Shepard was gazing out of a window, one palm pressed against the wall. The first world she had known in her childhood was clearly in view. It hadn't changed much over the years. Illicit trades were made out in the open on this planet, especially in this city. Trades for experimental implants, weapons, illegal and addictive drugs, deadly poisons, harvested organs, and men, women and children bought for sinful pleasures or sold into a lifelong servitude.

The moment that they stepped out onto the port, a woman who looked to be only five or six years older than Shepard bounded up to them. In a totally unexpected move, she threw her arms around Shepard's neck and kissed her on the cheek. Even Shepard looked a bit dumbfounded as she stared down at the smaller woman, mouth slightly agape from the sheer shock of it all. She had wavy amber hair, eyes the shape and color of almonds, a smile that seemed to paint a never before seen blush on Shepard's face. Miranda took this sight in, eyes narrowed suspiciously. The uneasiness curled her stomach into knots. She didn't like it.

"Remy?"

"I'm so glad you came. God, after that massive krogan got his hands on you, we thought you were dead for sure. But, then we kept hearing about the great Commander Shepard. Laren was so proud of you, Sav." Remy's voice sounded elated and almost carefree. Miranda noticed that while she was no longer hugging Shepard, she had not released the Commander's hand from her own. Shepard hadn't caught this continued contact.

"Remy, you sounded urgent, so what's the problem?" Now Shepard pulled back slightly, sounding less than certain about the situation.

"Oh... well..." Remy frowned, folding her arms over her chest and averting her eyes only momentarily, "Remember Politis' ring? They grew over the last few years after you left. Exponentially. Then... Well, Laren sort of changed. I don't know why, but she did. Now she works with Politis' partner, that big krogan, Konabos. It's all wrong, Sav. Everything. I didn't want to do it... I mean, kids? Selling kids to the highest bidder... especially for that.. No, I couldn't do it. So... I need help... and even after all of this time, of course I trust you. You've... grown up. You're able to handle yourself now. And Laren needs you, after all."

There it was: the obligation. Miranda bristled. This Remy had known that if she played that card, Shepard wouldn't be able to disagree. Miranda had studied Shepard extensively enough to discern that her loyalties pushed her to take risks; unnecessary risks that placed her directly in harms way. That was just in her nature. Upon seeing the Commander pause and then agree silently with a nod, she knew that this still remained true. These people from her past had never betrayed her. They had taken her in, cared for her, taught her. Even with the grateful smile that lit up Remy's features, Miranda couldn't shake her suspicions.

"Sav, I have a plan, but," Remy's eyes slid over to Tali briefly before moving back, "The quarian will be killed the moment that someone sees her. Konabos and Laren aren't fond of other species. They barely even tolerate each other. But, bringing a quarian is like painting a target on your forehead. Could you...?

"Tali, you're dismissed." Shepard's voice was quiet and, though Tali seemed rigid and displeased by the turn of events, she murmured an affirmative and boarded the Normandy once more. This was a highly unusual situation. Shepard always worked in a crew of three, never a team of two. This move bothered Miranda even more than Remy's mere presence. Reducing their strength by one person? Tali could take care of herself. She was not the delicate flower that most people took her for, Miranda knew that first hand. Though, she grudgingly considered the situation, there was no point in drawing unnecessary attention to their party.

"Remy, this is -"

"Miranda Lawson, Second-in-Command." Miranda did not extend her hand.

Remy smiled slightly before turning and beginning to lead them down the docking station. Miranda watched her surroundings carefully and, despite having read the files time and time again, she couldn't imagine a young Shepard running around this port. Running, killing, stealing. It was enough to make her skin crawl. Briefly, she entertained the musing of what Shepard would have been like if she had never made that first kill. If she hadn't met Laren, would she be the way that she was now? She never would have been taken in by the krogan. Where would she be, then? Alive? Dead? Selling her body at the command of some lascivious master and allowing the highest bidders to use her as they pleased? The last thought made her stomach knot further, face flushing slightly.

No, Shepard had been lucky to escape. Children dashed around, weaving through legs. Some were swatted and slapped around for getting in the way or as punishment for being caught in the middle of attempted theft. Others, their ages barely in the double-digit range, silently walked with adults who grinned in a deeply disturbing manner. Still, those children just kept their faces twisted into smiles that didn't reach their eyes. Cold, blank eyes. Miranda averted their eyes. They were hear for a specific mission, not to save this hell hole of a city. Shepard's gaze had never flickered; had stayed resolutely staring ahead.

Every turn down an alley brought a new sight. Children and adults alike scrounged about for food. Junkies muttered to themselves, hair matted to sweaty heads, faces pale and bodies trembling from withdrawal. Others were so high that they didn't even know that people were walking by. This was the harsh reality that Shepard was born into. Some planets were well-governed and totally organized with a more or less respectable community of sentient species living side by side in the cities. Hito was not one of those planets. Hito was a backwater, dingy, crime-driven shithole. It was much like Omega in that way. The only difference was that Omega was better.

Ahead, Remy was saying something to Shepard. There was something in the woman's body language that Shepard hadn't seen. Miranda halted abruptly. Much to her displeasure, Shepard took no notice as she fell behind. Remy had begun more stiff. Only a little bit, but there was a certain rigidity to her legs as she moved and her fist seemed to clench in an odd, repeated manner where it was held at her side. Blind. Why was it that Shepard was always blind? She would really have to talk to her Commander about these spots of ignorance that always seemed to pop up at the most inconvenient times. It might end up getting the team hurt, but it would definitely end up getting Shepard killed. Miranda was not about to let such an example of her damn good work go to waste that easily. No, preventative measures would have to be taken in the future.

They came from nowhere. They were silent and fast. These were no small feats for the massive beasts that were krogan mercenaries. Remy had leapt away at exactly the right second, confusion and questioning words were ended instantly as a sharp blow to the head felled Shepard. This was what happened when a soldier refused to wear her damn helmet, now wasn't it? How many times had Miranda insisted that Shepard just wear the bloody helmet for security purposes? And how many times had Shepard scoffed and waved her away as though she were an obnoxious insect of some sort? Well, who was getting the last laugh now?

Whoever was getting that hearty chuckle better have damn well enjoyed it because it certainly wasn't Miranda.

Miranda had barely aimed her gun by the time that three krogan descended upon her, throwing the weapons from her grasp and bringing the butts of their guns speeding towards her body. Pain exploded in her body. Then there was nothing.

Damn it, Shepard.

**m..s.**

**FelicitySprings**: After reading your review, I went and looked into Aramaic and Enochian, but my only problem with them is that I can't really use a translator and both seem like softer languages. My decision to use German was because of the fact that, at least to me, it has always seemed a sort of harsh, fierce and guttural and that was important to me considering that those same adjectives for the krogan as a species. For me, everything that I write about in this story has a basis in mythology, modern and historic fact, literature, etc. So, names, places, objects, everything that isn't canon can be linked to a real or mythological counterpart. . With that long-winded explanation over with, all bits of German that I use in this story are as closely translated to the English word or phrase I want to use. But, I do appreciate the suggestions and I would have preferred to use a lesser known language, but German was the closest I could get to the type of sound I wanted for the krogan. **Condor green**: I'm very glad to see you back and reading this, and I do apologize for the shortness of it. I'm glad you enjoyed it, though! Thank you! Happy holidays to you too! **Wolvesorrow**: I must say that I'm glad to see you reading this too. Ah, Grunt and Shepard. It's going to be an interesting relationship to write about. After all, there's the conflict of how krogan like Grunt are seen as abominations and disgraces to the species and Shepard has been raised surrounded by that mindset. Then again, Shepard was seen as just as much of an abomination to the majority of the clan. Thank you to everyone who favorites, watched, reviewed, read, everything! I apologize for the shortness of this chapter as well, I was a bit overexcited to get it out there to you. I assure you that the next one with not only have some Miranda/Shepard time but will also be longer! Thank you!


	11. The Prisoners: Part I

For hours now, Miranda had simply been observing the room from where she had firmly positioned herself in a corner of the room that she and Shepard shared. It was white. Not even an off-white, but a coldly sterile, blindingly bright white. A long mirror faced them from where it was set next to an unassuming locked door. Appearances were often full of lies. This was one of those times. The mirror, Miranda suspected, was a two-way window. Observers could see into the room, but she and Shepard couldn't see out. The door, a krogan guard had mockingly informed her some time ago, was sixteen-inch thick slab of metal. It could only be opened from the outside and even then only with a series of appropriate password and confirmed biological scan. Waiting outside of the cell... Well, Miranda didn't know the extent of the security.

What she did know was that this was a far too secure location with enough precautions to tell her that this had been planned long before Remy contacted Shepard. Someone had done their homework on Commander Shepard. Every loophole that Miranda knew for certain Shepard would be able to use to exploit to break out of this place had been blocked. Not to mention, Miranda glanced back at the unconscious woman, they had stripped both of them down to almost nothing. They had no armor, no weapons, no method of communicating with the rest of the Cerberus team. Literally, both women wore only a bra, underwear, a pair of grey shorts and a grey shirt, both thin. Apart from hand-to-hand, they were defenseless. Close quarters combat would be useless against the massive, armed krogan that were sure to be standing guard

Biotics would have been the best choice if she hadn't been forced to wear a lovely bracelet that she recognized as being a suppressor of such powers.

There was a rustling that caught Miranda's attention, drawing her eyes to the steel table that Shepard had been placed on.

Finally, Shepard had decided to wake the hell up, had she?

As she studied her commander, she heard unintelligible, irritable sounds as she unsteadily propped herself up. A moment passed as she fell silent. Then another. Long seconds stretched into a minute. And then it clicked.

"What the fuck is this?" There was the rage as Shepard leapt from the bed substitute, fists clenched. There was scarcely time to take a breath before she shot violently to the fist and slammed her fists against it in a bestial tantrum. Miranda raised an eyebrow. This certainly had not been in her files. No one had reported Shepard's distaste for being locked away. A phobia of sorts? Maybe. It was... Interesting.

Then Shepard looked down and froze, palms resting against the unscathed mirror. The expression flashing across her face was bewildering and accompanied by a body that was progressively becoming more and more tense. Then the narrowed eyes turned to Miranda in an accusing fashion though she hadn't the slightest idea what it was that she could have done wrong. It wasn't like she had landed them in this mess.

"Did you do this?"

It was Miranda's turn to be confused.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about? Do what?"

Then she saw Shepard turn to fully face her and gesture at her body. What? What the hell was wrong with her body? Shepard didn't seem to be injured in any way apart from probably having a massive headache and an accompanying concussion. Wait.

_Oh_.

That.

Miranda instantly reddened, heat flooding her face and neck at what her Commander was implying.

"No! I certainly did not. That would be courtesy of your friend, Remy." In a huff, arms crossed stiffly over her chest, she added, "Undressing the commanding officer whilst she's unconscious without any immediate medical reason to do so would be _unprofessional_, Shepard."

Really, the nerve of the woman. Now she had the audacity to, despite their less than ideal situation, start to slowly smirk at her. Then Miranda blinked and suddenly Shepard was coming closer. And closer. She was much too close. Their eyes were level. Miranda was certain that Shepard could hear her inexplicably racing heartbeat as it pounded against her eardrums like a krogan's roar in battle. Her skin, she was certain, was on fire where Shepard cupped her face and stroked her cheek with her thumb. Miranda's composure was failing. She couldn't think of what to say exactly.

And then Shepard laughed and drew back.

"You ass." Miranda growled through gritted teeth as she firmly turned her back on the Commander. The tightness in her chest and overwhelming feeling of anger wasn't because Shepard had just come onto her as a joke. That sort of foolishness was expected from the woman. No, the anger was because she didn't understand why _she _had reacted to Shepard's false affections in the way that she did.

"Language. Isn't swearing at your superior unprofessional, Lawson?" Shepard was screwing with her. Miranda turned and stalked forward, glaring at the woman that so many talked about in awestruck voices. The Savior of the Citadel was like an adolescent. A really obnoxious, teasing, little - but her thoughts were cut off when a voice echoed throughout the room. The sound caused both women to look towards the window, expressions darkening.

"Little Savannah Shepard, all grown up. So, are you sleeping with her?" When Miranda glanced at the Commander. A chill rippled through her body. It was as though her internal temperature dropped a few degrees as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in warning. Of course, her biological responses were unnecessary. The murder in Shepard's eyes was definitely not meant for her. It was meant for this woman who spoke to them.

"Laren. You really had to send Remy to do your dirty work for you? Predictable." Shepard's movements reminded Miranda of a big cat. A tiger in grace, steps eerily silent as she moved towards the window, eyes narrowed and fixated, smooth muscles bunching beneath her skin as she tensed and relaxed herself in preparation. Preparation for what, though? Laren was hardly going to enter the room to join them for drink. "Cut the shit, Laren. What do you want?"

"You know, your ship was reported to have visited a prison vessel by the name of Purgatory. Funny thing is, the good old warden there had contacted Politis and I about finding buyers for a particularly valuable prisoner, but he never made good on that even when we went through the trouble of trying to find as many as we could on very short notice. Turns out, nearly dozens of guards had been slaughtered, including him. Hundreds of prisoners died as well. Yet, your ship escaped. Now, what I've figured out is that the product he was trying to get me to sell was you, little Shepard. I had no idea that you were so... valuable. Now, I'm going to auction you off to the highest bidder and then we're going to auction off your friend here, Miranda Lawson, yes? I think that sounds quite agreeable." The voice was casual enough and would have even been pleasant if it weren't for the words that it spoke.

"You know what I would find agreeable, Laren?" That voice heralded death; reached for a victim to pull into its frigid grasp. It even made Miranda hesitantly step backwards as every survival instinct urged her to put distance between herself and the potential danger. "Why don't you come in here and we can spend a little time catching up. It'll be _worth_ it."

There was no answer.

The silence filled the room, weighed down on their bodies and threatened to suffocate.

Then came the explosive rage.

Her anger previously seemed like child's play at the sight of her behavior now. She rammed her shoulder the window, slammed her fists and clawed at the barrier with such insistence that Miranda would not have been surprised to see streaks of blood from obliterated nails. If she hadn't seemed like a krogan before, she definitely did now. Unfortunately, she did not have a krogan's strength. Had she had that amount of power, that window wouldn't have stood a chance against her fury. At the moment, however, all that Shepard was accomplishing was - Damn it, Shepard.

Miranda was alarmed at how quickly Shepard had started to damage herself. The reddened skin of her arms and hands was sure to be a mottled mixture of purple and blue by the time that night fell. Morning? She didn't know what time it was. The Cerberus operative leapt forward, wrapping her fingers around Shepard's wrist as it flew back in preparation for another futile assault. This had been a bad move. Shepard twisted around, fixing her blind rage instead on her second-in-command. Strong hands wrapped around Miranda's throat, squeezing tightly. However, this only lasted a few moments. The second that Miranda was able to gasp out Shepard's name, the Commander blinked and released her immediately.

Was that... guilt?

Miranda, rubbing her throat and stumbling backwards, gazed quizzically into Shepard's face. Yes... that was guilt.

"I... I'm... sorry, Miranda."

Her jaw almost dropped. Sure, Shepard had just tried to strangle her with her bare hands, but she had not only been guilty and apologized, but also used her first name and _sounded_ _sincere_. Miranda had to wonder if it was raining wallabies outside or if Hell was having an Ice Age. Instead she just gave a mute nod in acknowledgment that seemed to suffice. Shepard averted her eyes, turning away from her companion. Miranda slid down the wall, settling her back firmly against it as she observed the Commander. It clicked. Even if they didn't particularly get along all of the time, she was still a member of Shepard's krantt. Krogan did not attack members of their own krantt without a damn good reason. To do so was a serious sin. It begged the question that if the woman hadn't been adhering to krogan customs, would she have still apologized? Probably not.

"Shepard, you can't keep throwing yourself against the wall like that. When we get out of here, we need you to be able to fight. You can't be limping along because you went and let your anger get the best of you." Miranda kept her voice cool, only sparring a brief glance for her Commander as she concentrated her gaze on the floor to more or less avoid eye contact. This was strange. Beyond strange, actually. On a normal day, the only times that she and Shepard interacted were on missions, when Shepard was giving her orders or when Miranda insisted that the Commander fulfill her administrative duties as leader aboard the ship.

Now, they were trapped in the same room with no time frame for when it would end, no way to escape and nothing to distract them from the situation other than the other's company. Silence fell over the room. The tension began building up, thickening until she could've sworn that it was tangible. Miranda didn't have any particular aversion to silence. After all, she spent most of her time in her quarters, in total silence and by herself. No, she had no problem with the quiet. Shepard, on the other hand, couldn't seem to figure out what to do with herself. Since silently - and grudgingly - acknowledging that Miranda was right, she was just hovering in the middle of the room. From her peripheral vision, she could see Shepard shifting her weight from foot to foot in an uncharacteristically awkward manner. This day was just full of firsts because Shepard never got awkward. There was pacing back and forth, but then that seemed to bore her. More silence.

Then Shepard plopped herself down mere inches in front of Miranda, looking straight at her and still Miranda gazed at the thin strip of floor visible between their bodies. Not having received a response, Shepard moved herself to sit right next to her, back against the wall. The Cerberus operative glowered at the floor, mentally cursing their entire predicament. What the hell were they going to do now? Were they to sit in awkward silence for hours?

"So, Lawson..."

Apparently not.

"Tell me about Oriana."

This snapped her focus to Shepard entirely, a cold flood of fear rushing into her lungs and tightening her chest.

"How?" Her tone was guarded, her eyes narrowed as she looked her Commander full in the face.

"Accessed your Cerberus file." Shepard met her gaze steadily. "I wanted to know who I was working with, so I overrode EDI and found your file. In case you forgot, I'm pretty good at this sort of thing. But, EDI adapted and I only had a few minutes to copy your file onto my omni-tool. Haven't been able to access any other files since then. I've known about Oriana for... a while now."

"Then there's no need for me to talk about her." From the look on Shepard's face, she knew that this was a touchy subject for Miranda.

"Fair enough. Change of subject." A pause. "Wanna fuck?"

And there was that heated rush of blood to her face again as she stared at Shepard, lips parted slightly in shock. Miranda searched for some sign of jest in the other woman's face. Maybe a quirk of the lips or the mocking laughter in those eyes of hers. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that hinted that this was a joke to rile her up. Miranda berated herself slightly for being so shocked at this proposition. Shepard was extremely blasé about this sort of thing. Sex, murder, general violence. It was all commonplace. Before she could even respond, her face had seemingly arranged itself into an off-putting expression because the Commander waved her off, smirking slightly after murmuring that it was her loss.

How arrogant... and so very Shepard.

"I hope you realize that we're going to need to have a talk about chain-of-command and professionalism when we get back to the Normandy, Commander." Miranda spoke coldly and clearly, working to calm herself down. This was no time to lose her temper. What good would it do to get angry? It wouldn't help them get out of here. As much as she wanted to drop her composure and throw her fist into Shepard's jaw, it wouldn't do anything to help. But...

Miranda stood without a word to Shepard and then turned to glare down at her.

"Get up, Shepard." The Commander's eyes narrowed at her tone, but she stood regardless without even a waver in her gaze.

Then Miranda Lawson drew back her fist and sank it as hard as she could into Shepard's jaw. The other woman stumbled backwards, hand rubbing her bloodied lips and eyes widened in momentary shock. When Miranda threw another punch at her face, however, the Commander's face changed. It hardened and she fluidly twisted her body out of the way. This caused Miranda's fist to be halted by the wall instead of Shepard's flesh. The Cerberus operative was caught off-guard when a knee hit her abdomen and was followed by a heavy-handed, deliberate blow to her kidney while she was doubled over. She had forgotten about this part of Shepard's training. Arbeiten hand-to-hand. When executed correctly, it was difficult to avoid and even harder to recover from once hit that first time.

No matter, it wouldn't change the plan.

Though, she was quickly regretting not informing Shepard of the plan beforehand. Her vision swam as her head made serious contact with the wall behind. This wasn't pure Arbeiten. No, it was a mix of Arbeiten and Shepard's own unarmed fighting style. Even though there was an immense about of pain and she was sure that she would have a concussion and Shepard didn't seem inclined to stopping any time soon, Miranda knew that this had been the best course of action. How did she know? She knew because the door to their room was opening and armed batarian guards were swarming in to pull them apart.

With or without guns, when Shepard was in a rage, it was a bad idea to get within arm's reach. Two very unlucky batarians crumpled to the floor after having their skulls smashed together and they were joined by a third before the other guards managed to wrestle Shepard to the ground, pressing a gun into the small of her back. However, during the time that they were all distracted by Shepard - she was the primary asset, after all - Miranda had slipped out of the room without a sound. The guards, seemingly having gotten their prize under control, noticed her absence within moments. She could hear them behind her as she grabbed a gun from the wall and slipped around a corner. From the brief moments that she had taken in the world that had lain just outside of their cell, she had seen that they were at the end of a long corridor that had many others branching off of it. She could hear Shepard swearing loudly and viciously.

"Human's strong." Miranda heard one batarian grunt before his words were followed by a scuffling sound and then another thud.

"Then fix it." Another growled out.

"But, damaged goods-"

"This one's the exception. The famous walking dead are worth just as much alive as they are dead."

"Fine." And then the sound that she hadn't been expecting: a gunshot.

"She's not...giving...up!"

A sharp crack of metal to flesh and then silence.

"Now she is. Lock the room, we have to find the other one."

"Won't she die? She was just shot."

"Doesn't matter. Worth just as much alive as dead."

"What about -"

"Shut up and leave them there. When they wakes up, they can get a little revenge... In whatever way that he wants." This was followed by deep chuckles and the sound of the door sliding shut. Miranda felt something strange wash over her. A cold, violent rage consuming her mind and taking over direction to her muscles. Without really processing her actions, her body moved forward. Unprepared for the assault, the remaining pair of batarians dropped from the shots through their skulls. Her fingers jerked a thin card from around the neck of the deceased, held it up to a scanner and stepped through the doorway. There was Shepard, lying on the floor in the middle of three unconscious batarians. Miranda seemed to reconnect to her body at the sight of her blood. Weapons did a hell of a job on unguarded human flesh.

Miranda sighed, rolled her shoulders back a little, and pulled Shepard to her feet, dragging her back out through the door.

This was going to be a hell of a story: the great Commander Shepard had needed to be rescued.

masseffect _masseffect __**masseffect**_

**To my lovely readers, thank you for your continued support in this story! To Drucchi, iceblu11, Janizary, rancoroftheheart, dwizzle, daranman, mumu15 and grelude, thank you very much for adding me or this story or both to your favorites or alerts. I appreciate it so freaking much. Readers keep me writing, after all. To **Janizary**, thanks so much for going through and reviewing each chapter as you read! I always think that's really cool that you take the time to do it and I love hearing the thoughts that people have! Hey, **Avarenda**, this will definitely be an... experience for Shepard and Miranda. One that they won't forget. **Condor green**, dude, it would've been balling it if was your birthday. Ah, yes, Jack - Jack is going to be awesome to write in this. **Wolvesorrow**, damn straight you are, buddy. Shepard is definitely far from flawless and I'm quite excited to develop her. She'd totally be dead if others didn't cover her blind spots. I will explore the Grunt/Shepard dynamic, trust me. **FelicitySprings**, high praise that I sincerely hope I live up to. I tried again and again to keep talking to Jack with my female Shepard and was unpleasantly surprised to find it ending so abruptly. Very unsatisfying, I found. With Ashley, the dialogue is there, so they definitely chickened out. Ah, thank you for pointing out the typo. I don't use a beta, I just post when I finish after a quick scan over, so I appreciate when people point out the flaws. Ah, yes, Zaeed. I have to admit, that I really did copout with that part of the story. I never really connected to Zaeed, so I wasn't sure how to write it. But, now that you've called me out that, I will be sure to make it up to all of you. And I shall go find out who Balak is because I didn't get play that DLC, unfortunately. And I will also admit that I never much liked Garrus, so I've thrown him to the side when I should be getting up to the challenge of writing him. Well, Hito is actually a canon planet in the Mass Effect universe. It is, according to the Mass Effect Wiki that I frequently consult, the fourth planet in the Faia System of the Ismar Frontier in the Milky Way. It is essentially an Earthborn Shepard basis with tweaks and then throwing her onto Tuchanka because I was like, "Psh, bugger Earth, why would krogan be there?" But, Hito, on the other hand, has bases for all of the major criminal factions in its system, so I just changed the geography of the planet for my own purposes and had the factions located on the planet itself. For Collombya, I looked up some statistics, I don't remember for what, but Colombia was near or at the top, so I just spelled the name differently. I didn't want to make up some bullshit location for no reason. I love long and in-depth reviews. They make my day and force me to be a better writer because readers don't take crap, so thank you. **


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